A nice poster for a nice festival in Nice. Image via dalbera's Flickr.

I am becoming increasingly aware of a fundamental misunderstanding on the behalf of lots of loud-mouthed idiots and bullies. A deliberate misunderstanding designed to make other people feel inadequate, deceived and weak.

This misunderstanding is of one simple, four letter word: nice.

The meaning of nice has been taken over, twisted and manipulated into a negative. Nice is now a weakness. I find it hard to associate the word with anything other than a snide mocking tone and an attempted insult.

This isn’t the first time I’ve observed this worrying trend. I wrote about it a couple of years back, when fashion was going through a distinctly fugly and edgy phase. I got sick of seeing the phrase “subverted sweetness” in fashion magazines. I wanted to scream “LET THE SWEETNESS BE!!!!”.

A self-help book* called Nice Girls Just Don’t Get It by Lois Frankel and Carol Frohlinger has prompted this current rage. The advice given in the book isn’t bad. In fact a lot of it is practical and helpful, especially around assertiveness and confidence building. My issue stems from the author’s assumption that nice is bad.

Lacking confidence is bad, being a walkover is bad, making yourself miserable to please others is bad. Last time I checked, these traits have very little to do with being nice.

Nice is charm, nice is politeness, nice is making a room a better place by simply being in it. Nice doesn’t mean avoiding conflict, but it does mean not actively seeking it for kicks. Oh, and nice isn’t just for girls. Women, men and boys can be nice too.

Nice people don’t have to finish last. It is all another line of mythological bullshit from the bullies to hold us back and weaken us. Being successful has been linked with ruthlessness and rudeness for too long. Every time someone tells a nice person that they are “too nice”, they are planting subconscious seeds of weakness and doubt.

I am Jen and I am a nice person. Take advantage of that at your peril, because I sure as hell don’t “feel invisible” or “unable to articulate my needs”.

BBxx

* I really need to stop reading self-help books, they don’t agree with me. The only one that I find d genuinely useful is The Mind Gym. I think that The Secret is one of the most deeply dangerous and unethical books ever published, but that is a different blog for a different day.

Image via Automotive Rhythms Flickr

Have you ever done that thing when you make a cup of tea and leave the tea bag in for too long? The result is a bitter and disappointing beverage that leaves a nasty taste in your mouth.

That is how I’m feeling about film and TV execs. refusal to leave Sex and the City alone. The original show was good, much like tea. The first film was a tad too much – a bit like when you over-enthusiastically squish the tea bag with a spoon. The second film was over steeped and over squished, with a hefty teaspoon of cringe inducing racial stereotyping and the unforgiveable “Lawrence of my labia” line.

News that US TV network, The CW has green lit a pilot of a Sex and the City prequel series, based on Candace Bushnell’s The Carrie Diaries, is making it tricky for me to extend this simile without introducing excrement to this already overwrought cup of tea.

Rumour has it that Josh Schwartz and Stephanie Savage will produce the show. Now, I love these guys; they gave the world Seth Cohen. The OC is my ultimate DVD box set indulgence. They produced Gossip Girl too, which is essentially The OC relocated to New York. They excel at telling far-fetched stories of beautiful, spoilt and one-dimensional young people. They also excel at recycling ridiculous story lines. With The CW as the network and this powerhouse producing pair at the helm, there is no doubt that The Carrie Diaries will be glossy, groomed and full of supposed teenagers talking like grown-ups. There will be stories of mistaken identity, masquerade balls and a sensitive “outsider” love interest for young Carrie.

I’m just not sure what a Schwartz/Savage back story will add to the Sex and the City franchise, other than more $$$$ in Candace Bushnell’s bank account. I will put my hands up and admit that I haven’t read the Carrie Diaries book. It is aimed at the “young adult” market – the young women who have probably totally missed out on the TV show and films. My fear is that this is merely the beginning of an endless cycle of Sex and the City reboots. Saved by the Bell: The New Class and The College Years should have taught people the error of these ways.

The fact that they are considering Blake Lively to play Carrie sets even more alarm bell ringing. She is, how can I put this, not exactly charismatic. She can wear beautiful designer clothes but still exude as much charm as a tin of Dulux matte emulsion in “Natural Calico”. Sarah Jessica Parker’s Carrie has charisma and charm, as well as a unique and unconventional look. Blake is pretty, but it ends there.

Other names linked to the role include Miley Cyrus, Emma Roberts and Chloë Grace Moretz. Miley and Roberts I can just about grasp, but Moretz IS 14!!!! Yes, she is most famous for dropping the c-bomb on screen at the tender age of 12, so she makes some of Samantha Jones’s shock tactics look, quite frankly, banal. But these TV shows are meant to have twenty-somethings playing teenagers, not actual real teenagers. You don’t mess with the magic.

Casting decisions aside, the art of good film and television is knowing when to stop. Sex and the City could, and should, have been great, yet with every sequel and prequel the original show loses some of its sparkle. I find it hard to think of the Sex and the City “brand” without phrases like “cynical exploitation”, “product placement” and “big money merchandising deals” springing to mind.

Listen carefully and you can probably hear the soft plop of two turds falling into the already undrinkable Sex and the City brew (served in a pink and glittery Sex and the City 2 official branded mug).

BBxx

    Grunge happened five years too early for me. My sister did it properly, what with her riot grrl friends who gave her tapes of Veruca Salt songs and had rainbow-streaked hair adorned with daisies*.   I came of musical age post-grunge and post-Brit Pop. To over intellectualise the issue, it was a time of musical flux. Britney was prancing about in her school uniform, Christina was writhing around in the sand and I was still wearing white knee socks and velvet Alice bands with my name piped on them in puffy pen. Pop was reigning supreme and I was not feeling it in the slightest. I‘d seen my sister grow up and thought she was pretty damned cool. So I decided to be an alternative indie rocker, just like she was.   It was a nice little identity to play with as a 14-year-old. The make up was glittery; the hair was dyed with pots of gloopy paste from the hippy shop and the nails where always black and always chipped. The tights and accessories were pretty awesome too.   Faux-fur and tiaras aside, the music really mattered to me. Music is still very much my radar, it is where I find myself when I’m losing sight of who I am and what matters to me.   Some of the albums from my teenage years have not aged well. A case in point: Tura Satana’s** All Is Not Well album (sample lyric: “In the back of their neck, I got a nickel plated flex-g and a right to dress sexy”). As a 15-year-old I considered this to be a masterpiece in rap-metal and feminism. As a 27-year-old, I consider it to be “a bit of a racket”.   I’m on a bit of a musical nostalgia trip this[.....]

I really hate it when people act all coy and secretive on social media. Pseudo-enigmatic tweets and statuses that read “So excited!” or “Heard the most amazing news!” make me gag. Whatever it is, just tell us already, or face losing my interest and/or getting unfollowed.   Back when I was involved in community radio I was told: “never trail the news”. This meant that you could hint and build excitement about upcoming programmes and songs, but never be a tease about the news. It makes sense; the news transcends such cheap chicanery. As it is in community radio, so it should be in real life.   After all that, I’m now going to pull a rather dramatic about turn. Today’s blogpost is a collection of photos. This is because I’m really busy working on exciting stuff that I can’t tell you about. By my very nature, I want to tell you and squeak excitedly in your general direction (sorry). But I can’t, at least not just yet.   There you have it, I have become a cheap and tacky social media tease. I feel dirty.   Here are some pretty pictures from the day I went to Bridgnorth and Instagrammed the place to hell. If there’s one thing that the world needs, it is another blogpost of try-hard “artsy” pictures. Enjoy.   BBxx            

  I’ve wanted to post a picture of this dress for ages. I picked it up for £15.00 from Cow Vintage in Birmingham a few months back. My guess is that it is either fully handmade or two dresses stitched together at the waist (the belt makes me think the latter). It is made from silk – with the bodice in check taffeta and the skirt in slubby raw silk. The bright yellow, pink and navy are an unlikely combination but it somehow works.     Dress: Cow Vintage Cardigan: Pied a Terre Tights: Boots Boots: Jones Bootmaker Bracelet: Made   Vintage has been on my mind a fair bit recently, after reading Shopping for Vintage by Funmi Odulate. What I don’t fully grasp is the nature of being a “vintage collector”. These are people who buy beautiful clothes with no intention of ever wearing them. Really, what is the point? I doubt that this dress is of any real value to a vintage collector or a hardcore vintage fan. All I know is that it looks good and I doubt I’ll catch anyone else wearing something similar.     I’m also going through a phase of wearing lots of yellow. I’m not sure why.   BBxx   P.S. I have major bitch face in that picture. Me and my Gorilla Pod had just had an argument, otherwise I was practically dancing with joy on the inside. Honest.  

There’s something magical about Birmingham’s Great Western Arcade. It is so grand, with arches, tiled floors and fancy light fittings. It reminds me of the scene in Francois Truffaut’s Jules et Jim (OK, the Sixpence None the Richer video for Kiss Me that was based on Jules et Jim) where Jules, Jim and Catherine run through the beautiful Parisian arcade, all bohemian, androgynous and chic:     That’s enough of the artsy-fartsy French film and middle-of-the-road ‘90s Christian soft rock references. I visited Great Western Arcade on Saturday to check out Birmingham’s first vintage charity shop: Forgotten Vintage.   The shop opened back in November and it is a natural fit amongst the old world charm of the arcade. Proceeds from the shop support Trident Reach the People Charity and SIFA Fireside, both of which help homeless people in Birmingham.   Forgotten Vintage stocks garments and accessories from ‘60s through to the ‘90s, ideal for folk seeking something unique with a charitable twist. All proceeds will be split between the two charities and will be invested into work to tackle  homelessness in the city.     The shop is initially open for a six-month trial period, but there are high hopes to make it a permanent fixture in Birmingham’s growing collection of vintage retailers.   Shop Manager, Carl Franklin, believes that Forgotten Vintage fills a gap.He said: “There are very few vintage shops in Birmingham compared with other cities in the UK and this certainly  is the city’s first vintage charity shop.   “I am convinced the demand is out there and the vintage market will grow and grow in Birmingham once there is somewhere like this for people to go.”     Having paid the shop a visit and rummaged through the rails, I can report that there’s some[.....]

  Cardigan: Topshop Black Top: Florence and Fred at Tesco Jeans: Topshop Boots: Jones Bootmaker Skull Pendant: Lynsey Luu Horn of Plenty Pendant: Mom found it on the car park at Dudley Zoo in the 90s. True story. Probably Elizabeth Duke at Argos.   I haven’t posted an outfit picture for a long while. Don’t worry; I’ve still been looking smoking hot. I’ve just not felt like posting pictures of myself. I’m not 100% certain why, but here are some options:   1) Plastering pictures of myself all over my blog still makes me feel uneasy and silly. (With the exception of the ones I had taken by the brilliant  Alex Styles that you’ll see on the “About”  page of this site, I want to plaster those everywhere with an accompanying note stating: “I look like this ALL of the time”.)   2) My winter wardrobe is a tad predictable – short skirts, opaque tights, skinny jeans, cardigans and riding boots in a variety of combinations. Yawn.   3) It is dark when I leave the house and dark when I get home. I used to take my pictures on my way out in the morning, hence why you can probably see eye snot in them.   I was all ready to put my half-assed attempts at “style blogging” to bed, and then I bought this cardigan. I blogged about my love of sequins before Christmas. Since then, several sequined cardigans had caught my eye, but I couldn’t bring myself to shell out £50.00+ on something I knew would be heavily discounted two weeks later.   Lo and behold, I picked up this ritzy little baby yesterday for a mere £15.00 from Topshop. That’s correct, £15.00. Reduced from £55.00. It is the best bargain ever and I’m going to wear[.....]