Reading:

Tina Fey: Bossypants

Image via Michelle Wright's Flickr

Tina Fey is pretty high in the Bookish Brunette list of icons (I’ll publish this list in full one day). She’s clever, funny and cool as hell. She also wears glasses and has brown hair – traits that make us, essentially, the same person.

Bossypants was in my pile of books that I was reluctant to read because everyone else was raving about them (see also: How to be a Woman by Caitlin Moran). In these cases, my inner contrarian acts out and I find myself willing to read anything, including the back of shampoo bottles and People’s Friend magazine, instead of what I really want to read.

I caved late one night and purchased Bossypants to read on my iPad. Oh my, this book is good. It is like an inspirational handbook for every nerdy and ambitious woman out there, though I don’t think Tina would agree with that. She’s too cool to try and tell people how to live their lives. The book recounts Tina’s childhood and her early days in improvisational comedy. She is honest and direct when it comes to her success in the male dominated TV industry. Her account of the Sarah Palin phenomenon is hilarious in how it depicts the madness of a TV juggernaut alongside her anxieties over planning her little daughter’s birthday party.

Tina Fey has worked her ass off the get where she is on her own terms. I plan to do the same. Thanks, Tina.

Michel de Montaigne: On Friendship

I blogged about this dude a while back, when I was pondering my own tendency to be “on the fence” about certain things. I picked up a copy of On Friendship from the book market on the South Bank during my last London Adventure. It is a collection of essays about friendship, conversation and knowledge. I find myself nodding in agreement at a lot of what de Montaigne has to say, though the opening essay about male friendship should be renamed I Love You, Man 2: Get a Room Guys.

My main objection to de Montaigne’s writing is his tendency to dismiss women as stupid and insignificant. The following extract gives you the idea:

Look and see who wield most power in our cities; who do their jobs best. You will find that they are usually the least clever. There have been cases where women, children and lunatics have ruled their states equally as well as the most talented princes.

Zing. Build us up, then bundle us in with the children and lunatics. Nice one Mike.

I know that he was writing in the 16th century and that he was reflecting the generally accepted views of the time, but I find it disappointing that he could be so enlightened about so much yet still refuse to accept women as equals. It would be interesting to see what he made of women in 2012.

Watching:

30 Rock

How has it taken me until 2012 to realise that this is the best TV programme ever made? My box set binge has followed on the coattails of my Bossypants lady crush on Tina Fey. The show is freakin’ hilarious. Season One is a little bit rough around the edges, but by Season Two 3o Rock has really found its stride.  I could now list a series of quotes from the show that have prompted me to snort-laugh in an highly unladylike fashion. Instead, I’ll let the great Liz Lemon do that for you:

Listening to:

Martin Solveig featuring Kele  - Ready 2 Go

I loved Martin Solveig featuring Dragonette’s Hello, so I was excited to hear that he had teamed up with Kele of Bloc Party fame.  This video is very cool, it has hint of the lo-fi amateur dance vibe that Spike Jonze took mainstream with the Fat Boy Slim Praise You video. It was shot at the Stade de France during half time of a match between France and Croatia. The song is catchy, though I’m torn over whether it beats Republica’s tune with a very similar name. Have a listen and decide for yourself:

  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[.....]

  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[.....]

    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.