The Suit Maketh The Man

So you will probably be hearing me rant about my Master's dissertation over the next several weeks. While I will not bore you with the mechanics of it, my sample is comprised of FTSE 100 companies. This means that I will probably be heading down to The City a few more times before this nightmare is over.

For the non-Brits, The City is a casual way of referring to London's financial district. It's akin to Wall Street in New York, I guess. The best part about this neck of the woods is that generally, my eyes are not assaulted by grungy fashion. Indeed, I am a sucker for a man in a suit. Sucker! So just sitting on a bench for 5 minutes, admiring the well dressed men first, and the people in general, second is a joy.

It's a huge deal. While I am wholly supportive of people expressing themselves through their clothes and so on, some of the fashion statements can be pretty darn scary. I don't get for example, why any woman would leave the house in a pair of ripped tights (pantyhose), or men wear t-shirts with obvious stains or wear their pants hanging off their asses. And worse than the pants hanging off their butts, is the yucky, grungy looking underwear which assault my optical senses. If you must participate in urban fashion statements, can you at least invest in clean, non-crusty looking underwear?

And speaking of tights, they are not pants, ladies. So unless you are wearing black boy shorts under them, please cover your ass with a skirt or dress (note, I did not say shorts - I never could wrap my head around the concept of wearing tights with shorts. It looks stupid!). I have seen too many white or coloured panties in the street under nylon hose pretending to be pants! And it was like the Daily Mail had read my mind, or just that the trend is so popular that it is everywhere!

So I sat on a bench on Tuesday and just enjoyed well dressed people, specifically the men I admit. It was like Christmas!

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Danger: A Trip Into Trininista's Handbag.

Today I asked my Facebook friends - what's in your handbag?

I then decided that Pablo and I would show you what was in my handbag! It was a long journey. lol.

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Wedding Minx or Wedding Jinx?

Is it bad luck to try on wedding dresses as a single, "no man in sight" woman? Or to go ring shopping?

Is it bad luck to not wear white for your wedding?

Growing up, if my mother caught me wearing a ring on my (engagement/wedding) ring finger, I would be reminded that it was bad luck and I would never get married. Well, I am living proof for sure that the old wives' tale is true! lol.

That being said, I think I have crossed the jinx line years ago and so, maybe trying on wedding dresses for fun would not do much more damage to my already tainted and irreparable nuptial fortune.

Weddings and brides and couples and rings and dresses were all around me today for some reason. I took that as a sign to say my piece on the whole thing. I think I am way past the age of the virginal white frock and I already know what I want - IF this grand occasion ever takes place. Colour. It's all about colour. I won't go as wild as a totally non-white dress. In my world of traditional women, this will definitely not go over well, especially with the maternal unit. However, something like this ...no...exactly like this, will be perfect.

Photo credit: David's Bridal

I have liked this style for a while now - the shade of blue may change but I defo want blue in there.

And of course you need the ring to match. I love sites like  thatallow you to design your own rings. I could spend all day doing this stuff! All day!! I just love bling! And bling loves me!

Sensing a blue trend here? It's my favourite colour.

And then there is the case of the black wedding dress.

Photo credit: Crystal Clear Imagery
Source: Style Me Pretty

This bride (above) chose an exquisite black dress to say her vows to the man she loves and I can already see older women around the world making the sign of the cross in absolute horror, but I don't know - I think she pulled it off. Maybe it would not work for everyone and I would not wear a black dress, and not just because my mother and aunts would bathe me in holy water if I did, but because it is not to my taste for my wedding. But I think she looks lovely.

So...would you wear black to your wedding? And do you think it is safe for me to grab a girlfriend, make up a wedding date, slip a ring on my finger, and go squeeze my booty into some lovely frothy wedding numbers for kicks?

Why not! I think it's a great girly day out. What have I got to lose? Well, according to some women and to old wives' tales - EVERYTHING!!!

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The Week That Was

London's National Gallery

Well, I guess I can give a recap of the week that has been here in London, in my world.

With it being a bank holiday weekend here last weekend, there were a lot of things happening in London - as usual. Though I am still officially a student, without formal classes to attend, every weekend is like a bank holiday weekend for me, but I digress. I decided beforehand that I would go to the Busspepper Eighth Anniversary Party on Sunday, where the week began. Usually a good lime, this one was disastrous. The venue was in my opinion a poor choice for such an event and there were just way too many people crammed into a small space, making it too hot, too stifling. I did not enjoy it as much as I had hoped, but then I was also distracted by news from home.

When I opened my eyes on Monday afternoon, there was a full-on barbecue in the backyard, with people and everything. Too tired and annoyed to participate, I did some research for my dissertation and spent the rest of the evening, night and next morning (no sleep inserted here) doing letters/emails to prospective respondents and making appointments. I managed to get 4 quick confirmations but the water seems to have run dry and I am following up on the laggards today. I just want to reiterate that this dissertation is the nightmare of my life!

On Wednesday I managed to scrape myself off the bed and go to campus for a workshop on...you guessed it...dissertation research. Fun.

Thursday was much more pleasant as I decided to enjoy the brilliant sunshine and venture into parts unknown, namely Hammersmith. Beautiful area. Very green and vibrant, yet not claustrophobic. There was a lovely market on as well and even better, a burrito giveaway at the new location of Tortilla. I had never heard of the chain but I saw about 50 or so people in a queue and I asked what was going on. Well, needless to say - student +no money + free lunch = me standing in line, talking to a lovely Aussie lady about vacations, while waiting to get to the counter to order my unexpected lunch.

I  had some school-related tasks to complete (snore) but once they were done, I then ventured back to Trafalgar Square, where I sat in the sun with tourists, had my free burrito and gaped for a while before spending the next few hours in National Gallery - fave place ever! I took a walk back down Waterloo Bridge where I was so sorry I had left my camera at home, cause the view off the bridge on a clear sunny day is breath-taking. When it's sunny in London, it's beautiful - just beautiful.

Beckenham Park,
Photo credit: Wells Consultants

On Friday, I journeyed to Beckenham this time - another area I had never been to and beautiful beautiful beautiful. Very posh, but very green and woody. My "date" gave me a great director's cut version of the Beckenham tour before we settled in for drinks and dinner. It was such a nice evening that I lost track of time and ended up having to face my worst nightmare - the dreaded night bus - to get home.

Saturday afternoon, I met up with my girlfriend, Nic, for lunch and drinks (and gaping) at Las Iguanas, followed by more drinks at Be@1 - where as usual, the oddballs of London seem to turn up. Again, no camera, but I shared a drink with Woody Woodpecker, Bugs Bunny, a female cow, a dragon, a fairy, a pink bride and a ghoul. I kid you not. Drinking in London is unlike anything I have ever experienced. lol.
Sunday, I was exhausted really but still managed to go to Blackheath for lunch at Locale, where I had the best scallops and a wonderful main course of gnocchi with king prawns. The weather by now was back to normal, i.e. rainy, but the company was great and the food was better - not to mention the 3 glasses of pinot grigio. At the table next to us was a party which included two Guyanese women, so of course I had to strike up a conversation cause that is how I am - farse and chatty.

Rafael Nadal ended a great week with some scintillating tennis, which I watched over another glass of wine, and here I am - back with the research and stress. It's really dreary today and I am so tired (I could barely type this as you can tell) so I think the rest of today will be spent in bed with the disso...hopefully with the disso.

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Letting Go

I was really touched by the strength and faith of my friend this past week. It has not been an easy one for her, and there were the days when she, like anyone else would, felt her strength failing. To lose someone so close to you in such a manner is debilitating and would be for anyone. Yet, when I spoke to her and to the other girls, I recognised that she had a strength and a fabulousness that perhaps we had taken for granted.
To read the article in the Guardian today - a report on the funeral - and the family's call for peace, not vengeance, and their ability to forgive, is so powerful. How many times have you been wronged by someone - a boss, a friend, a boyfriend - and held on to that resentment, watering it with time? Thinking on how things so small can become such powerful vessels of hate and negativity, and comparing it to something like this, which far outweighs any devious act by a supervisor or a cheating boyfriend, makes one wonder, why couldn't I let it go?

As I have gotten older, I have learnt to let things go. Whether I would be willing to let something like this go is something I never want to have tested. But my belief is God will judge. My belief is justice takes place in its own time, one way or another. Resentment is a tie that binds you forever to that person. You are more likely to be joined to the hip emotionally and spiritually to your accused when you keep resentment alive. Freedom comes from letting go. Still, it cannot be easy and now the healing begins.

I am grateful to have such awesome people in my life

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