Thursday, 18 June 2015

Tis the Season





Falalalalalalalalala -- 'tis the season to be jolly in tents/dancing crowds. 'Tis the season to deck heads with boughs of holly and maybe also flower garlands. 'Tis the season to troll the ancient Solstice carol... and maybe also the not-so-ancient Flo and Machine or Alt-J anthem in the middle of a packed-out, screaming, mud-splattered audience facing a thudding stage. 'Tis the season of music festivals and weekend getaways.

Astonishingly, I have not camped before, either staying with friends or attending events such as Field Day (which used to be a single day affair), because my summers tend to be completely packed with travel or work, so finding time out for a long weekend is tricky. Not to mention that most of my friends have different music taste to me -- while Dina's somersaulting on an airborne trampoline about Sufjan Stevens at End of the Road, the rest of the world pees about Kanye at Glasto (although I'd love to pitch myself up in that crowd this week -- no doubt it'll be on all the 'Best of 2015' roundup TV programmes come December). Now, however, for the first time in ages, I have an unplanned summer. I have finished university. I have made it to the other side. And while I haven't confirmed any campervan bookings or shopped for denim cut-offs and fringed kimonos just yet, I might just end up at a fest or two because that sounds kind of ideal right now.

To get my thinking bees buzzing, I have teamed up with Get the Label, who have kindly sent me a bunch of glamping essentials (or simply HUFIs: Highly Useful Festival Items) -- including these lovely Havaianas flip-flops and a Brita water bottle. They are also running a fantastic competition to win a Glamping holiday where you and your friends can stay in a gorgeous Wigwam, away from all the dirt and makeshift tents. That, too, sounds kind of ideal. Race you to enter my details. 

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Top, American Apparel
Trousers, GAP
Flip flops, Havaianas c/o Get the Label


Sunday, 26 April 2015

Oh Balls, I Forgot My Dress

 




  




'Ball season' is upon us -- courted by all who like dressing up, consuming vast amounts of punch and champagne, going on a helter skelter in Ralph Lauren gowns, competing with tutors on dodgems, eating live worms with a friend, wading ankle-deep in mud, having a stare-off with someone in the same dress (sorry, usually a single gender phenomenon), losing your friends and having fun anyway, getting with over three people in one night, streaking at sunrise, food fights, dancing on tables, ABBA tributes, going into the bathroom with someone and being offered their secret stash of cocaine, climbing on stage riggers above a moshing crowd, stripping entirely on stage whilst singing with a band, and fireworks. 

The things listed above have all been experienced either first or second-hand by me, and I'll leave it up to you to guess where I've been the partaker and where the observer. One secret paradox, perhaps, is worth unveiling: I don't drink, but I did streak at sunrise.

With such a cornucopia of delights comes an online ubercornucopia of outfit choices. Here, again, my approach is paradoxical -- I hate worrying about my dress, I detest the fuss of make-up and hair, find pineapple-and-washing-up-liquid-smelling perfumes (all perfumes) simply unbearable -- Dina's an anti-Cinderella through and through. Also, more to the point, what's it all for? Unless you want to stand all night in the corner (plz share with me your ways of having subtle fun, if so), you will get scruffy, so it's always best to choose something you can forget about as soon as it's put on. The dress I'm wearing, with big thanks to Jacques Vert, is a solid all-rounder when it comes to this. Black = no stains, synthetic material = an avoidance of mine, but much easier to clean, a pretty great built-in brassiere... All this made dressing up a pleasure rather than a chore, and maybe for once it was nice to dump the old label of 'dowdy Deens'. 


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Lace top maxi dress, c/o Jacques Vert
Shoes, Schuh
Earrings, Claire's
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Photos in this post taken by the ace Romain.