Kate Loss

Dear Heat magazine,

I love you. However, I do have a little question. See these two boot pictures – are the boots featured exactly the same? Or can you spot the odd difference between Boot Picture 1 and Boot Picture 2? 

                                                     Boot Picture 1

Boot Picture 2

Answer: Boot Picture 1 is a TopShop boot costing £75. Boot Picture 2 is a Chloe boot costing approximately £750. Why do I ask? Oh, no real reason. It’s just I was slightly surprised to see the following picture of Fearne Cotton, accompanied by the caption: ‘How envious are we of Fearne’s accessory collection? Chloe boots and a Mulberry bag – so not fair!’

Um, CHLOE boots, did you say? Now, if anyone knows about Chloe boots, it’s me, seeing as I spent a large chunk of my husband’s money on the green lovelies featured at the top of this very blog. Now I can see where Heat’s confusion stems from. After all, TopShop did create a pair of boots that ‘pays homage to’ (fash-speak for ‘blatantly rips off’) the Chloe originals. And they’re very good copies. Apart from the fact that they have two buckles instead of three, a completely different stud pattern, no zip, are much less cool…and basically look NOTHING LIKE them. However, those of us who could have bought 10 pairs of TopShop boots for the amount they paid for their Chloes, get VERY UPSET when magazines (or indeed, individuals – you know who you are) confuse high street for high fashion.

But it’s OK, Heat. I forgive you. Because, taking price as a proxy for worth, you have drawn my attention to the fact that my boots are 10 times better than Fearne’s.

Still want her bag, though.

Lots of love,

Kate Loss xx

HOW much do I – and the rest of the sartorially savvy world – want the dress Kate Moss was wearing to this week’s New York TopShop launch?

Much.

Problem is, it’ll barely touch the shop floor for three seconds before being bulk-bought by savvy eBayers. And even if you DO get your hands on one, you’ll be known as The Girl Who’s Wearing Kate Moss’s Dress But Doesn’t Look As Good In It As She Does.

Times are tough enough without inviting comparisons between us and one of  the world’s most successful models.

I still want one, though. And that black, fringed bag she’s wearing. And actually, while I’m at it, I’ll have her hair and face, too.

I’m very excited, y’all. I’ve been asked by a group of cool fashion bloggers from the U S of A, called Week in Chic, to join them in telling the world about the clothes, shoes, etc that we’re all obsessing over. And every Thursday, starting with this one, I’ll update you on what they’re all up to. Read, click, drool…

The Fashionable Housewife has only gone and found the best swimsuits for pear shaped bodies.

Factio Magazine interviews Pierre Colorado, the designer behind Blake Standard, the hot new women’s sportwear label.

Fashion Fille discusses her loves and hates. What are you currently loving and/or hating?

Fashion Pulse Daily recommends Tom’s Shoes for summer and loves that they give a free pair of shoes to a child in need, for every pair purchased.

Forget boring black, says Fashiontribes. Spring’s well and truly here so try bold prints and colourful accessories.

Quinta Trends talks with Zandía. Beautiful Chilean clothes that’ll stop you getting, er, chilly.

Runway To Retail discovers a new label from Africa dubbed Suno. We hear Michelle Obama is a soon-to-be fan…

Make THE spring accessory, the bib necklace, work for you. The Budget Fashionista picks out affordable pieces, and has tips on how to make it look amazing, whatever your style.

The Fashionable Gal flaunts her candy-coloured lashes. Tasty.

Today at work we discussed how, with men, it’s about making the most of the one you’ve got - trying him out in different scenarios (restaurant, cinema, handcuffs) to shake things up a bit, for example. And it’s NOT about always wanting all the men you DON’T have. And, sometimes, wanting the men you DON’T have more purely because you haven’t got them.

Clothes are like men. And with both, the idea is to focus on what you DO have, rather than what you DON’T.

So, for example, I DO have  some lovely cream brogues from TopShop.   And I DON’T have some seemingly lovelier pink brogues from TopShop, as featured in this week’s issue of Grazia.

Those of you who’ve followed my blog for a while will know I am a committed enshoethiast (see my very first three posts for a full, unfettered understanding). But even I find it hard to justify buying the exact same £60 pair of shoes in more than one colour. Even if one of those colours is pink. And Lord knows I like a bit of pink. That isn’t a euphemism by the way.

To combat these urges, I should be focussing on what the CREAM brogues have that the PINK brogues do not. So I made a list (I love a list):

WHAT THE CREAM BROGUES HAVE THAT THE PINK BROGUES DO NOT

1. They would go better with a wedding dress. Were I to get married again (although to do so would be to rid myself of the whole ‘make the most of what you’ve got’ philosopy) that would be useful.
2. They are better at making pasty winter legs look tanned. Lalala notthinkingabouttheinventionthatisfaketan lalala.
3. Er, they’re cream?

This isn’t working out too well. But £60 isn’t much, is it…

This week a trip to the Miu Miu concession in Selfridges (purrrrr) revealed that in the whole of London there were only two – TWO! – Miu Miu bags in the style I was after. The husband had agreed to devote the entirety of Saturday 4 April to birthday present shopping (given how much he detests shopping, this is True Love), but when I discovered the scarcity of my lust object (no, not Zac Efron, I’m still on the bag here) I suggested we made the shopping trip rather sooner than planned.

The husband agreed to this readily, but this was because I was proposing spending only two hours after work in retail therapy, instead of half a weekend, and not because he had any intention of buying me a Miu Miu bag. In fact, when I broached the subject of said bag (weeks of dropping hints and leaving large pictures of the bag open on the computer seemed to have had zero effect) he changed the subject to rugby. And when he finally asked me how much the bag cost, and I told him, it looked like the shopping trip was off. But miraculously (actually, it was because I pulled the Emotional Trifecta of 1) Big Eyes, 2) Wobbling Lip and 3) Clothes Removal on him) he agreed to go to Miu Miu in the glorious Westfield shopping centre in West London two days ago.

It’s two weeks until my birthday on 11 April, and, in the spirit of birthday surprises, I think it’s only right that I hold off revealing whether or not the bag was purchased until the day of my birth itself. I will say only this: the Miu Miu shop assistant was so impressed with my technique of selling the bag to the husband (Look! It’s got a shoulder strap AND a handle and you can hold it like this, this or this – it’s basically three bags for the price of one!…Look! How it can liven up any plain outfit – with this bag I need never go clothes shopping again! etc) that he took out his notepad and started scribbling.

I will also say that the husband is many things, but he’s not stupid.

1) You fail to wear your lovely biker boots for the whole of winter because you got a bit of mud on them in November and couldn’t be bothered to clean them (this is also a sign of extreme laziness).

2) You start storing your trainers in the cupboard under the kitchen sink.

3) You go into a shoe shop and think ‘oooh I really need a pair of black ballet pumps, they’ll go with everything’. You buy said pumps, go home, and discover you already have three pairs at the back of your wardrobe. In the exact same colour.

4) You warn your bloke not to open your wardrobe door due to the impending footwear avalanche.

5) According to your bank statement, this month you have spent ten times as much on shoes as you have on food. And £10 on fees for going over your overdraft limit.

Today is a special day sartorially speaking. Because today I not only cleaned my biker boots in the bath (and am now wearing them), but I also rearranged my shoes so opening the wardrobe doesn’t constitute a near-death experience.

AND my ASOS ripped jeans in a more realistic size arrived, and to top it all the husband has agreed to a Miu Miu Westfield trip this afternoon ‘just to look’. Right.

Um. This is quite embarrassing.

You know how I couldn’t find that purple Dotty P’s dress on their website yesterday?

And how I was delighted with the abbreviated nature of its hemline (the husband’s reaction when I modelled it: “It is very short, isn’t it”)?

Yes, well, turns out that this dress isn’t so much a dress as a top. No wonder it was so bloody short and didn’t appear in the ‘dresses’ section of the website. There it is in the ‘Tops/Tunics’ section instead.

Feel a bit stupid. But at least no-one else will be wearing it at a wedding.

I tend to avoid Dorothy Perkins. It’s the name, you see. Sounds like that frumpy aunt you’d rather not invite to your wedding. But now Sunday Times Style tells me that granny chic is in (and if Sunday Times Style says it, it must be true), Dotty Ps on Oxford Street was top of my lunchtime to-do list. 

And you know what? There’s some decent stuff in there. There’s also some utter shite (namely hideous clutch bags and even hideouser belts). It’s not quite as cheap as I’d like – most dresses are around £25 – £40 – but I want to be one of those girls who buys clothes in the unlikeliest of places and makes them look designer, so I persevered.

After 20 minutes of frantic trying-on in the uninspiring changing rooms (I guess nice changing rooms = even more expensive clothes) I decided on a deliciously short, magenta viscose (but looks like silk) dress, with a ruffle front. It’s proper gorgeous, and only costs £25. And it really is short – I tend to find that shops don’t hitch their hemlines up enough these days, so I’m on the constant lookout for dresses that are relatively unrevealing up top, but fabrically challenged below. I’m a leg girl, you see.

I’ve looked for the dress at Dotty Ps online so I can post a picture, but bizarrely it’s not there. I am considering photographing myself in said dress, but I’d need the husband’s help for that, and I was hoping to produce this dress with ‘what, this old thing?’ nonchalance. Asking him to take my picture in it might arouse suspicion. Hell, what am I thinking? He’s male – he won’t even notice I’m wearing a dress, let alone the fact that it’s new. So here’s the pic, complete with sock marks and Paul Smith patent heels:

Now, I know a certain pink Miu Miu handbag that would look a treat with this dress. Jury’s still out as to whether the husband goes for it as an upcoming birthday present, as the latest is that he doesn’t like it, and therefore isn’t keen to buy it. I assured him he wouldn’t have to carry it, but that didn’t really help.

In further pink news, I saw a girl in pink Uggs today. Pink Uggs! Who knew?

I don’t usually buy clothes online (I worry they won’t fit – see below), but when I saw this pair of ASOS ripped skinny jeans it was lust at first sight. OK, I’d rather have a pair by Balmain, but the husband would go stark raving mad if I paid hundreds and hundreds of pounds for a pair of jeans that were, as he’d see it, ready for the bin. But these ASOS babies are only £32. As a girl who’s used to 7 For All Mankind and True Religion prices, this is basically free. So, goddammit, I bought them. In a size 8…

When they arrived on Friday (I paid extra for overnight delivery so I could wear them to a party at Shoreditch House) I was, I’ll admit, a leeetle bit overexcited. Clothes! Arriving in the post! For me! I rushed to the loos and put them on. Or not. Well, I got them on eventually, after a good ten minutes of wriggling, jumping and ‘nnnnnnnnngh’ing. But my legs resembled over-stuffed sausages and breathing wasn’t really on the cards. Well, I WAS size 8. Last month. There’s been a lot of chocolate in my life since then.

So anyway, I’ve sent back the size 8 and I’m waiting for the size 10, which will at least allow me to breathe and maybe even eat. Mmm. They’re going to be just perfect with my Chloe boots. Happy sigh.

1) ASOS  ripped jeans – £32

2) Balmain ripped jeans – many millions. Sad sigh. 

The sun is shining. Which means only one thing: an excuse to wear my new Ray Ban aviator sunglasses at all times. However, as usual, I’ve been experiencing sunglasses-related problems, caused mainly by my head-and-face-based deformities, which are as follows:
 
1) my head is the size of a child’s (meaning that sunglasses refuse to stay perched on top of my head, or, sometimes, on my face at all)
2) my cheeks stick out further than my nose (meaning that sunglasses rest on my cheekbones instead of my nose so when I talk, smile or make sarcastic expressions the glasses jig up and down alarmingly)
3) I have small ear holes that were not designed to hold earplug-style headphones (meaning I have to wear headphones that wrap over and around my ear, which fight for the space on top of my ear with the arms of my glasses)

There is also the sunglasses+Underground dilemma to contend with. My excuse for wearing my sunnies under ground is that the moment I should be taking them off (when the sun is no longer visible and I’m rummaging for my Oyster card) is the exact moment that I don’t have any hands free to do so. Because of face-based-deformity 1) (and, to a lesser extent, 3)), I can’t just shove them on top of my head. Instead, they need to be carefully removed, placed in their little Ray Ban home, and stowed in my handbag. By the time I get to the bottom of the escalator my eyes have adjusted to the darkness so I may as well leave them on. I’ll only have to go through the whole palaver in reverse at the other end of my journey if I do put them away.

Well, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. Plus, of course, I look fucking cool.

Watching Paris Hilton’s British Best Friend at the moment. It’s a bit distracting. But dear lord LOOK AT PARIS’S CLOSET! It’s the size of, like, Scotland. And ooh ooh ooh those pink crystal Converse hi-tops. So wrong. So want them anyway.