All posts by Laura Counsell

I believe I am destined for great things, despite all evidence to the contrary!
H Samuel - ring 2

Covetables: H Samuel, you’re really spoiling us!

First I heard about the gorgeous little love rings at H Samuel via The Frugality, then I was lucky enough to receive one for my birthday! And now even Grazia are reporting on H Samuel’s range.

H Samuel have love rings in two styles; an adjustable style, with crystals and available in rose-gold plate or sterling silver, and a full love, sized version in sterling silver with cubic zirconium.  The sized version is the one I have and I absolutely love it.  The CZs often catch the light in a really lovely way, and I think that the ring being a full band means that it should have a little longevity over the other option.

They’re reminiscent of more expensive brands but £29.99 is a bit of a bargain.  I have worn my ring pretty much every day since I was given it (by Kathryn!) but it was only when I spotted the bracelets in Grazia that I realised that H Samuel is becoming A Thing.

H Samuel - Grazia page
layer up!

Yes, you will have to wade through some pretty terrible jewellery to find some cute things.  And yes, the H Samuel website isn’t great…  But!  I have long been a believer that I’d rather spend a couple of quid more on reasonably-priced ‘proper’ jewellery (semi-precious stones and metals, things that won’t turn your finger green) than buy jewellery from high street accessories shops.  It’s why I have so many pieces from QVC, such as their Diamonique range: they last well and look brilliant.

I mean, how cute is H Samuel’s crystal pendant?  £12.50 at the moment!  I’d layer it with pieces of contrasting lengths.

Picture taken from hsamuel.co.uk
Picture taken from hsamuel.co.uk

So there you have it; for cute, everyday pieces, you could do a lot worse than H Samuel…  Who knew?

UPDATE: that little pendant is from a brand called Martine Wester at H Samuel, and a fair few of the bits are really sweet and very CHEAP!  These art deco studs are my pick, at £4.50.

Category: Style
Superga

Covetables: Superga 2750 – Leopard

These are so good, I just got so excited when I tried them on! I’m a sucker for some animal print and these are loud and borderline garish, but styled with dark jeans and a blazer, they’d be show-stoppers.  Naturally, I think they also go with light blue jeans as well, and today I’ve styled them with a navy jersey top from COS and my army jacket.

I think animal print can definitely act as a neutral, and can be clashed with other prints very effectively.  I know Kathryn enjoys a check shirt with animal print footwear very much!  But you should approach clashing with animal print slightly with caution so you avoid looking like a toddler who’s been allowed to dress themselves.

The print is cute, they come in tonnes of sizes and- VERY excitingly- they are currently in the sale!  Originally £50, I picked mine up* for £15 at the Superga shop in Spitalfields, and they’re available via the Superga website for £25.

 

* Full disclosure: they were a gift from Kathryn on my birthday lunch out!

Category: Style
loz scampi

Feminism & Fashion pt 1 – Loz starts to muse…

Earlier this year, Elle UK was tackling feminism and the idea that it needs to be rebranded.  To be totally fair to them, this has been a very open debate, over a number of issues, and I have been impressed with the quality of the discourse and the intelligence with which Elle has engaged with the subject.  Elle UK is my favourite magazine aimed at women in this country as I happen to really enjoy the writing, and I find a lot of the fashion and style quite accessible.  But it is still a fashion magazine, and while I give it props for even opening the debate up (or, in fact, acknowledging feminism at all), I did balk at the idea of rebranding feminism.  But feminism has a number of image issues, and that’s undeniable.

I think that when we talk about the waves of feminism, that that can be the actual point when someone with a vague interest in equality and potentially in identifying as a feminist, feels crushed beneath the weight of ‘academic feminism’ and leaves the whole debate.  Of course we need to discuss what feminism means, both personally and on a global scale, and there is huge value to academic debate.  But as with any subject, and this more than most, feminism can feel inaccessible and opaque, and if you throw in the various class issues that feminism has, and its traditional exclusion of transgender women and women of colour (buzzword: intersectionality!), a woman can be faced with a concept that feels so deeply entrenched in the mire of humourlessness and worthiness and stereotypes of being robust and potentially hairy that they give up.  And if they are a person of colour or working class, they probably gave up a long time ago.  Making feminism relevant is essential.  As much as I have some quite serious issues with the pseudo-feminism of Caitlin Moran, she and others like her have opened up a debate and a conversation about feminism, womanhood, and what it means to be a feminist.  It turns out, just like any other principle or belief system, feminism is what you make it…

So why do I mention the many waves of feminism when I’m clearly going to be talking about clothes?  It is so very easy to view feminism- or any radical movement like it- through the eyes of women who can have things like jobs, or the choice under the law of whether to have sex with the man they happen to be married to.  Essentially, it’s easy to view feminism through the eyes of those who are already benefitting from it.  And modern feminism does have a lot of problems, and some of these wonderful, spirited women who had the conversations and shouted loudly about concepts most people had not ever thought of before, had some opinions that don’t sit well with a lot of modern feminists.  We should stand shoulder to shoulder with fellow women, not judge them for their clothing, their failure to be perfect feminists, their genitalia.  It’s not too hard for me to see why feminists thirty and forty years ago dismissed the struggles of transgender women, and why some still do.  You were born men, haven’t you had all the chances already?  But feminism, if it is about one thing, is about equality: we do not win our battles by forcing others down.  You are a woman if you know you are a woman!  Up to a quarter of people subjected to domestic violence are men and talking about that doesn’t sit well with many feminists, I’m sure.  Two women a week are killed in this country by their partner or ex-partner, and a WHAT ABOUT TEH MENZ mentality is tiresome and unhelpful.  But if we truly value equality, there has to be room around the table for everyone; the conversations are just too important to be exclusive.  Gender is about more than just genitalia and some problems affect us all.

So of course there have been waves of feminism; with any movement you sketch out your best guess and it evolves.  Previous versions will not be perfect.  However, my aim when I started tapping away was not to write about intersectionality or the evolution of feminism.  Others can do that much better than I.  It was to mention these things in relation to the choices that we are now entitled as women to make, and hallelujah for that.  I made no resolutions this new year but I am trying to snark at other women-people in general, really- a bit less.  And oh how I have loved to judge a woman who wears leggings as trousers!  Lo, that dress is not for the likes of you madam, you resemble a trollop!  It’s exquisite.  And fantastically bad for the soul, and for other women.  It’s wonderful, comforting, lazy thinking that requires no critical thought, no interrogation of your own views and assumptions, and it’s often just a little bit classist, for me at any rate.  There’s no spiritual nourishment in verbalising your criticism of another woman’s appearance or behaviour, just a vague realisation that my own self-esteem must be in need of a top-up because secure people don’t need to judge others, not like that.  I know that there isn’t anything positive in recognising that someone’s podge is showing in their t-shirt, even if tight does look cheap and I will never not think so.  It’s your choice to wear that t-shirt.

What a fuss was made about these bloody mannequins.... But isn't the fact they're unusual kind of weird?
What a fuss was made about these bloody mannequins…. But isn’t the fact they’re unusual kind of weird?

But if there is a word in feminism in the last five years that needs examining, it is ‘choice’.  Respecting other women’s choices: good.  Invoking choice as the excuse, reason, justification for acting any way that you want to: not cool.  Do what you want, if you must, but don’t cloak it in feminism.  A great xojane.com article from 2011 had this to say:

This got me thinking about the phenomenon of “choice feminism,” where women argue that even anti-feminist behaviors are feminist because “feminism is about choice.” If you choose to be on a Hot Chicks Tumblr — or if you decide after the fact that, having been put on a Hot Chicks Tumblr without your knowledge, you will choose to be okay with it — that means the Tumblr isn’t misogynistic, because anything you as a woman choose to do is feminist. In fact, the real misogynist is the feminist who’s trying to tell you that being a Hot Chick isn’t okay. 

 Choice feminism gets one thing right: You should be able to make the choices that are right for you. And yes, of course that should include the choice to be ogled by strangers, or have your body used as a recruitment poster to bait guys into caring about important causes. Where choice feminism falls down, though, is in assuming that any of those things are actual choices right now.

We don’t live in a vacuum.  And this is where I finally get to fashion!  In a world where women are constantly- I repeat constantly- bombarded by all the ways they aren’t good enough, aren’t thin enough, oops-not-too-thin-boys-don’t-like-that enough, how can fashion be anything except the brilliant capitalist embodiment of all of that pressure and preoccupation with appearance?  And it’s a concept I’ve struggled with, definitely.  I recently attended a talk entitled ‘Can fashion and feminism ever be friends?’ where Sali Hughes and Polly Vernon made some excellent sense: fashion is not the same as the fashion industry.  We will always create trends, and new ways of dressing ourselves, and we can do these things joyfully without ever buying Vogue.  But we can do that too, if we like. If you swap the word ‘fashion’ for ‘style’ it immediately becomes something more personal, an expression of who we are, in our outer appearance. Our appearance is important, but not because we should fit in to some sort of pre-determined category.  It’s important because it’s another form of self-expression, a way to represent who we are, be creative, feel good, as much or as little as we want to.

And just as don’t live in a patriarchy-free bubble, we also have rules within which to operate, never more clearly for me than in the world of work.  It is fair to say that, with the odd exception, my eight years in the City were marked by black bootcut trousers and an array of very bright- what some cruel people might call garish- tops.  If it had a big pattern it had Loz written all over it and if I mention, casually, that there was a big New Look across the road from my office, perhaps the true horror of all I have just described will wash over you like some sort of sewage overflow.  At this point in my life I am cultivating a delusion of Scandinavian style; boxy silhouettes, pared-down design, structural shapes.  This is not least because I have a) grown up a bit; b) lost a wee bit of weight (to be discussed, no doubt at length, another time); and c) got a job that allows me to exhale.  I can be Laura so I don’t have to scream “I’M LOZ AND I HAVE A PERSONALITY UNDER HERE” with a floral monstrosity and a cardi.  And in those barren, polyester-tinged times, I was both operating within a strict set of corporate principles and trying to subvert them at every opportunity.  Except at client meetings when I’d wear a skirt suit, so you see I was capable of occasional bouts of ‘appropriateness’.

I now have a job in the third sector and there is zero dress-code in our office, if you exclude the fact that working in an un-insulated box regularly dictates your sartorial choices. The freedom is wonderful.  And so when it comes to needing to get dressed up for conferences and events, it makes a nice change and I’m happy to go smart, albeit with a twist.  And the people I meet at these conferences rarely tire of reminding me that my seven small tattoos can often be that twist: these are some very conservative people.  So you see, as a feminist and a person, I enjoy clothes and the versatility of dressing, and I don’t now feel that these are at odds with my principles.  Most of the time….

To be continued!

Category: Comment
Dr Martens Church 2

Covetables: Dr Martens Church Boots

Dr Martens Church boot – £110

I tried these on as part of my birthday shopping trip and loved them. The shop alas did not have my size, but I am still coveting the Dr Martens Church boot very much.

Dr Martens Church
You really don’t get a sense of the detail here; it’s delicate but bold.

The photos belie how almost delicate these look in the flesh; the oxblood version is beautiful but the contrast stitching on the black version is just divine. They have that great nipped-in feel that you get to a genuine, low-line ankle boot, and with my uniform of super-skinny jeans these will be perfect autumn and spring footwear. M called them a ‘transitional piece’, which I certainly can’t disagree with.

They’re marketed on the DMs website as men’s, which I found a bit odd since so many Doc Martens are unisex. But they’re very handsome and I will be saving up for a September purchase…

Category: Style
heart sand

On living with M

I lived in a house with one or more parents until I was 34.  Seeing that written down feels weird, but for the most part that’s because other people reading it will find it weird; while there were frustrations, sharing a house with my mum didn’t get in the way of much and there’s always been a bunch of beds/sofas/mattresses at friends’ houses to choose from.  It was just the way it worked out for various reasons- some stemming from my parents’ divorce, some not-  and I’ve always had an unusually close, supportive, and respectful relationship with my mum.  I also have never had any desire, even when I’ve felt a mite stifled or childish, to live on my own.  Friends, family, a partner: yes.  But not on my own: that’s a very quick way to minor depression for me.

When I met M I think we tried not to move too quickly, even while emotionally we were speeding out of sight.  We didn’t see each other every night, and work trips and my social life (and the fact that M couldn’t really have one) meant that we had space from each other.  Except that by six months I was staying at M’s house so often, and hanging there even when he was out, that the writing was pretty much on the wall: we live together now.

I had always taken the view that moving in together would be huge, and if the timing was wrong that it could spell absolute disaster.  And I still think that, but I feel that at my age I’m in a better position to know what I want and what I’m able to adapt to.  And in so many ways it’s felt stupidly easy.  I’ve sat in bars and pubs asking my co-habiting friends whether they found it difficult when they first moved in together: I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Or I did.  It turns out that I had interpreted my difficult to be the same as other people’s difficult, which it isn’t.  We split the chores, and although we’re both messy and that can irritate, we’re mostly pretty considerate people.  Where I realise my difficult comes in to play is when it comes to feelings.  I have all the feelings, and I’m a naturally very emotional person.  I’m also resilient, supportive, and fairly alright company, and my emotional side makes me a better friend and partner.  But I do realise that I’m used to living with someone who’s known me all my life and who’s able (pretty much) to gauge my moods and knows the tricks to make me feel better, or to take care of me.  Which me and M are still navigating.  We have an agreement that I need to signpost M to what I need because I’m not that easy to read, and also because I’ve had those very emotional relationships and he hasn’t in the same way.  But it’s not easy when you’re upset to tell someone that you feel they’re handling the situation wrong or you need something else.  I try to guess what people need and I think I do ok but it’s ridiculous to expect anyone to be able to do that with me.

I also have a characteristic that I’m sure can be very tiring for the person I live with. I have a need for things to feel special, or an occasion, or marked in some way.  I’m not sure where it comes from, or rather I do but I can’t quite articulate it.  I know I want to be present and I like things to be deliberate- I really am not one for channel-surfing and ending up with half an old episode of Only Fools and Horses.  I think the concept of ‘occasion’ is a throwback to my childhood: up until quite late in my parents’ marriage, occasions such as birthdays, Christmas, and holidays were sacred.  People put aside their differences and made nice for a couple of days, and we had fun things to eat and drink.  I can’t quite unpick exactly where this need comes from and why I need a sense of ceremony on a bog-standard Saturday night, but I do.  I do my best not to dictate our weekends, and it’s worth noting that somehow marking the evening can be as small as picking something nice for tea, or watching a film instead of something from the Sky planner.  It’s just important to me that we’re present, I guess.  Similar to my feelings about marriage, I want to be actively being in our relationship, not coasting or sleepwalking through it.

I carry with me a fear, always, that I am being emotionally demanding or dictatorial.  While I think we are usually excellent communicators, a recent row proved that pussyfooting around and thinking that we’re being considerate essentially ends up amounting to (benign) dishonesty, and potentially feeling a bit hard done by.  It’s a tricky balancing act between signposting a need and making a demand, I suppose.  But we’re not doing too badly.

Category: Life