An Episode In Which Fashion Gets Drunk, And Style Goes Wild...

SO. I promised you, dear reader, pictures of the latest fashionable shenanigans I attended, which included, as previously described in past posts, a rather smashing housewarming party in which every attendee was required to sport some form of facial fuzz, and further to this, there were to be posts portraying several of my stylistic pals styling out in supreme fashion. Unfortunately, there was a slight mishap at the facial hair party (which was also, incidentally, a bin benefit, the point being, to raise funds for the boy and his housemates to buy a bin for their house) involving a glass and a half full of rosé, which rendered my camera techniques slightly off edge, to say the least. I did, however, manage a semi-snap of my shoe crush (the lovely brown woven loafers) so I'm afraid, for the interim at least, this shall have to suffice. And as for the fashion focus group, well, it would seem that my core target audience has gone shy (mentioning no names, Hollie and Charlotte. I shall snap you and blog about you eventually, try as you might to elude me. You shouldn't be so fierce, should you.)

Therefore, apologies are in order, because photographs were promised, but since there are none of any outfit-displaying decency to speak of, here is what was rocked:

In an attempt to snap out of the trouser rut that I have seemingly descended headlong into, I decided to make a concerted effort to NOT wear harem trousers. Nay, I was expressly forbidden to wear them, by the boy, but I love his sense of fashion clarity-they were becoming, way, wayyyy to familiar. So, muddied waters cleared, I selected a different garment to clad my legs in, and concurrently have now kicked the harems brutally and forcefully to the curb. These trousers I speak of are from H&M and cost me a mere £7 in the sale, by dint of which, I love them all the more. They are smartish (tailored-sooooo AW09/10...I love that this was a bargain buy which not only looks good now, but is just screaming out to be worn with a shoulder padded teeshirt for seriously bitchin and fashion-forward style.) They are slightly high waisted, straight legged (cigarette pants) and deep navy in colour, which just feels loads fresher than black at the moment and also looks incredible with nude shades...plus a peach tee and a sharp shouldered jacket and you've just nailed Balmainia...perfecto.

I wasn't quite as on form on Saturday night, and in addition, it is hard to pull of true Balmiania without a killer heel. And since this was a house party, I seemed to spend much of the time sans footwear. Anyway. I teamed the skinnies with a loose fitting tee (counterbalance, doncha know...) which a (very stylish) friend of mine gifted me, which has piano keys printed down the front of it. It garnered many, many compliments throughout the evening, and, coupled with my red silk scarf and black beret, lent an air of French insouciance to the ensemble, I liked to think. Well, until I was out-Frenched in the style stakes by a boybander named Serge who wore breton stripes, a beret, and skinny spectacles with alacrity. Oh well, you win some, etc.

I let my trusty loafers do the talking with regard to footwear, but took my very favourite kicky shoeboots incase of any trips into le disco later. Unfortunately, the boy was kubla-kahned by one Strongbow too many, and therefore disco dreams were dashed. It was all good fun though, and the boy managed to recover enough to wow the crowd at a festival later on the Sunday (whilst I suffered through a very unfashionable and downright day-spoiling hangover. At work. Not cool at all.)

Here is the snappiest snap I could find re: my loafers, see how their thunder has been well and truly stolen by my friend Charlotte's boyfriend Ben's plastic pump up high tops. He wore them well, as an accompanyment to hi-shine shorty shorts and a very tight tee shirt which may have revealed more than he intended, style notwithstanding:

See them? Just hiding out there in the corner.

Outfit of the night goes to: The boy, who wore, in inimitable style, a Jurassic Park tee shirt, pink shorty shorts emblazoned with his name, a rather fetching black waistcoat, and, at one stage, a novelty Spanish tourist's hat of sorts, which was a fashion find in a million. Fashion losses included at least 3 pairs of sunglasses, one pair Ray Ban, all pairs sorely missed, plus a potentially lost MP3 player, which was then thankfully found, and of course, non-fashion related, dignity, electricity and already-drunk drinks.

Finally: Staple of a good party: Just when it seems that no one will ever go home, that the noise will ever stop, that the neighbours will stop threatening legal action, some wiseguy cracks out the Hungry Hippos, (aka: world's noisiest boardgame) cause, you know, that's always in order at 3am. How refreshing then, to find that, said wiseguy, who was discovered asleep on the couch in hobnail boots the morning after, actually ate the Hungry Hippo balls to prevent noise levels from said game becoming cataclasmic. I'm calling it a sign of the times.