Froyo, Flu and Freckles...February in the sun.

Ruben Domingo

K.O.N.G

Ruben Domingo

Venice Canals at sunset

Ruben Domingo

Lizzeth Noreiga

So it's official. I love L.A, and I love frozen yogurt. I'm twelve days straight at the moment and bar the brain-freeze, maaan it feels good. Or rather I should say, tastes good. And I should know. I've fully sampled my local Yogurtland's WHOLE range, and when a new flavor of the month came out at the weekend (red velvet cupcake in-case your interested) even I was embarrassed at how excited I got.

So I figure as an avid lover of frozen yogurt who could be a better brand ambassador then moi? Ok, so the one time I tried this with Pepsi they didn't quite fall for it, but I was pitting myself against the likes of Britney Spears and Beyonce. Yogurtland's mascot is like a cow or something, so I figure our appeals on a similar par.

Yogurtland I hope your hearing this. I would write to them to tell them this, but hey who uses letters in this day and age. Instead I plan to work my way in through instagram... by posting heavily filtered froyo's and hash-tagging the hell out of them. I think this is the best option; my boyfriend back in the UK is pretty sick of waking up each morning to a different whats-app picture of a frozen yogurt, so I need to expand my audience.

Apart from building up my collection of Yogurtland's takeaway spoons, since my last blog post I have been lucky enough to shoot a lot of fashion with some great photographers and companies. (And Father since your last email, I apologize in advance for the smoking in the above images). One of my favorite shoots was on Venice Beach, and shot entirely on old film cameras. The fun really is in waiting to get the images back, completely unsure of how they are going to turn out. And all the films imperfections only add to its charm. (for the ease of distinguishing the film from digital I have placed them at the end of this post!)

And when I haven't been shooting Ive been flu-ing. If that is such a word. My mouse-like immune system has not taken well to being in and out of the cold Californian sea, and my glands decided to swell up sumo-wrestler style. Now I'll admit I'm a hypochondriac at the best of times, so I self-diagnosed glandular fever and started crying about having to book flights home.

I didn't book flights home however, as I found out my boyfriend had booked us tickets to Disneyland as my Valentines day present, and I'll be dammed if I don't live out my dream in March and go round for the day dressed as Minnie Mouse. So I ate an entire pack of jelly vitamin C tablets. Didn't help, but hey, they tasted like fruit pastels. Cue Mama Linda and her 'super chicken corn chowder soup'. It may have looked like the dogs dinner, but it worked. Like a dream. And coincidentally it also tasted like a dream. Creamy, chickeny and potatoey it is yet another thing to add to my growing list of favorite American foods.

The weather is still delightfully sunny, and I have grown freckles. It's only taken twenty-six years. If I could have told this to my thirteen year old self who used to try to recreate them with brown felt-tip, then I feel my teenage years may have been less angsty, and would have looked less like I had some weird large blackheads on my nose every weekend. My twenty-six year old self however has suddenly realized its only going to age me, and little too late has bought an anti-wrinkle cream and decided to start applying suncream.

I look forward to the month of March as I have some really special people coming out to see me. One of those is my baby sister who I have not seen for over a year due to her living in Australia. Like me she has wanderlust, a taste for the sun, and also like me she has written into The Ellen Show to play on our 'reunion' story. (Ellen give us tickets - and possibly a car too?!) Whilst my loved ones are out here I plan on playing the tourist and adding to my tattoo collection with some new ink.

I'm leaving Mama Linda and the beautiful Marina Del Rey to move to an apartment in Santa Monica for the next month. I'll miss Mama Linda's home cooking, but shes promised to send me on my way with a full compilation of the best Motown and her corn chicken chowder recipe.

February may be drawing to a close, but my Yogurtland campaign is only starting... cows beware.

Emily x

Above images shot on CONTAX 645 - 80mm Lens - BW - ACROS 100 Film by Gabe Sachs

Above shot on CONTAX 645 - 80mm Lens -COLOR - PORTRA 160 by Gabe Sachs

Above images shot on LEICA M6 - 50mm Summicron - BW - ACROS 100 Film by Gabe Sachs

California Soul...

It's been a long time coming, but here is it, my first blog from sunny California.

I touched down just over a month ago, raring and ready to start this adventure to immediately be put to at an abrupt halt in New York airport. Due to bad snow conditions the airport was at a standstill, and my connecting flight to the sunshine of L.A looked like a distant dream. Told I could not get a seat on another flight for three days, and with no hotels available I received my meal tickets, made friends with the caretaker, and took up residency on the airport floor. New Yorkers are notoriously rude, and the ones I encountered were no different. Apart from one. A young woman at the flight desk offered me her spare room to use after she finished her second job at the hospital that night. I was touched by a strangers kindness. (Obviously I didn't take her up on the offer....she could have been an axe-murderer for all I knew), but it warmed my heart in a somewhat chilly airport.

After sobbing to flight desks and sobbing to my boyfriend back in London (o2 phone-bill LOVED that one!) I finally managed to get a standby seat on a flight a day later. Heavy heart lifted, I arrived in L.A, got to my hostel....and then it sank again.

I was on Hollywood Blvd. At night. Now if you guys have ever been to Hollywood, you will know it ain't like the movies! It's not a good place to be at night, and the colorful mix of crackheads and prostitutes make it even the more uninviting.

I kicked myself into action (after all I was not going to leave the sunshine for cold back home quite so easily) and I quickly found myself a place to live. With a heated pool, jacuzzi, gym and my own balcony I finally started to feel like I was in L.A. And the best bit about it all? The woman I live with. 'Moma' Linda is like my black American mom. She listens loudly to Aretha Franklin, cooks the best homemade burgers, gives me donuts for breakfast, and when I get a job says things like 'Baby Gurl I am so proud of you!'.

And I have been working hard. On my tan. Bearing in mind the last time I was properly in the sunshine was one whole year ago when I was living in Australia, this has been a welcome break. L.A has peak tanning from 12 - 2pm so regardless of wherever I am, I try to get out at this point and expose any flesh I can to the sunlight. Envision baby turtles scuttling to the sea to survive...well that's me at midday running into the last patch of sunlight on pavement. The Californians think I'm stark raving mad... "it's the winter dude?!" but they just don't understand what its like for us sun-deprived Brits. 

But apart from the tanning I quite seriously have been working too. On a few American Film Institute short films, a 'tinder' documentary (which co-incidentally is filming back in London in March... if anyone wants to be on it hit me up!), and had several exciting meetings with Production Houses out here. I have also been working with some lovely L.A photographers on several fashion shoots (pictures soon to be on the blog!)

One thing which has come to me as a huge eyeopener is the large gulf between the rich and the poor in America. Due to my fear of driving on the right hand side of the road, I've been exposed to it more then most whilst taking the public transport. And let me tell you, taking public transport out here can be a rather scary experience. Unlike in London where everyone and anyone uses the tube, out here only crazies, drug-dealers and Mexican cleaners seem to be on the bus. And that is no exaggeration. The bus drivers are like the toughest people I've ever seen (especially the ones with the Hollywood and Downtown LA routes), and they have to be.

When I'm not getting harassed at the bus-stop for cigarettes, or trying to ward off the weed fumes coming from the gangs hanging around, I witnessed a rapping man the other day. He just would not stop rapping. To no-one and everyone. I couldn't figure out if I was impressed or scared (a little of both I think) but all I kept thinking in my head is 'this is so #america right now Emily'. Yes, I hash-tagged in my own head. I kind of wanted to look, but I didn't want to be drawn into like a bus rap-battle as I didn't need to show him up with my own rapping skillz. (I see my friends rolling there eyes here...oh god is white middle-class Emily drunk and trying to rap again?)...moving on anyway....

Macklemore was not lying, I've been popping tags in the thrift shops out here! They are awesome, and before my time is up I plan on dedicating a post to the best thrifty's here in this big ol' city. And there is a lot of them. You can tell a good one by the smell of bad breath... the worse the smell, the better the bargains.

It's taken its damn time and a lot of frozen yogurt, but L.A living has seriously won me round. The sunshine each day is just so uplifting, as is the positive attitude of most of the people out here. The TV is trash, there's a Starbucks on every corner, and there are free refills on giant size sodas. Everywhere. I also have come across quite possibly my new favorite food. I use the term 'food' rather loosely here (I could eat a plate of it) but I'm sure most other people would see it as a *ahem* dressing. Ladies and gents I present, RANCH DIP. Creamy, garlicky and oh so good (bad), I will be filling my suitcase home with bottles. To every other American its just 'raaaanch man', but to me...well its been an eye-opener let me tell you. On what us Europeans are missing out on! (friends you will be re-educated back home).

My hair has gone darker yet again due to the hair-dyes 'ash brown' color coming out jet-black, and due to me using a permanent dye, well there isn't really much I can do about it. But now I'm tanning the color of what I'd describe as 'stained wood' I figure looking more Mexican can only aid me on my frequent bus rides out here. So really, the positives outweigh my hair faux pas (although my forehead still has a black-stain a week on...)

I guess I'm kind of on a sabbatical out here, and I tell you what....I thoroughly recommend it. Book that ticket, and get on that plane. Life is just too short. You have a dream, chase it. It's that simple. Or at least it was to me.

And I don't regret it yet...
Emily x

Tattoos, Flights, Fat Cats, New Flats and a Hazardous 4 Bird Roast : the last three months...

 

It's been a while since my last blog post, and when I look to evaluate the past three months, yet again its flown by, and yet again a lot has happened...

In my last post the weather was sunny, my hair was blonde, and I was complaining about dry sandwiches at The Savoy. The weather is now windily pr-empting winter, my hair is dark, and The Savoy were kind enough to offer myself complimentary champagne and nibbles in the American Bar to make up for the dry sandwiches. Oh the power of a blog (thank you social media!).

Since then I've moved from South to East. First 'temporarily' into my boyfriends bedroom in Bethnal Green. Cue four weeks later, and the novelty of living out of bin bags (which was never really there to start with) had run very, very, dry. Now I don't know how many of you have ever searched for somewhere to live in London, but let me tell you, when your on a budget and don't want to sign a years lease it is hellish, and a rat race. We'd turn up to flat-viewings to be told they were already taken, in fact many a time we'd get a call en-route to the viewing to be told not to bother coming, it had gone.  And if the room is actually still available when one does turn up, you turn into some kind of puppet, desperately trying to interview successfully against your fifteen other competitors who are viewing that night : "No we don't smoke, drink, tidy is my middle name, and whats that you LOVE birdwatching....oh what a coincidence, me too!!"

After a month of viewings each evening (I joke not) we had no social life, a huge bill on the oyster travel cards, and a pretty good knack for grabbing reduced sandwiches en-route to each house. Our outlooks were bleak, our mealtimes were bleaker. And then out of nowhere, through sheer luck and persistence we found ourselves the perfect place. Our own flat in a Victorian house, split over two floors with our own garden, a smeg fridge and a temporary cat. Located in Dalston, with ten minutes walk to Broadway Market we could not be more happy. The cat, however, could be. Terribly grumpy, and awfully fat, Charlie only shows love when he wants food. And since his owner emailed concerned he might not be able to fit through the flap soon, limiting his food means he loves me even less now.

I love having my own place, my own space, and even my own garden. I feel awfully grown up. The only downside is when the chocolate digestives have gone in two days straight, and your partner says he hasn't touched one you have to own up the the fact that your 'flatmates' arent robbing them, and face the harsh reality it was all just you.

And even more perfect about the new flat - we have it up till the 10th January. And seen as I'm off to Los Angeles to live and work from the 6th January for three months - well it could not be more ideal. Yes, I booked my flights, and now my daydreams are full of sunshine, super-size diet sodas (yes I said soda - getting down with the lingo already), rollerblading in bikinis, and The Ellen Show. And of course, a bit of work in Hollywood thrown in here and there.

Work has been good to me in the last few months, and I've started working respected roles on commercials. And recently two Christmas Food Commercials, which can't help but put one (however early) in the mood for Christmas. The most harrowing part of the whole experience was when I tucked into a sample Four Bird Roast mid-pre production meeting and realized I had taken on half a toothpick. Or better put, it had taken me on. I saw my professional demeanor going down the drain before my eyes, not to mention my own life. Gluttony was never a good look.

Last week I got new ink at Frith Street Tattoo parlour. Words designed by my talented friend Cressida on my arm, LIVE/LOVE (www.cressidaomahony.com) and the Cross of Lorraine on my finger in respect of my much loved french grandmother.

I've become obsessed with a fedora hat, as it hides a multitude of sins, whilst making one feel like their channeling a 2nd rate version of Kate Moss at Glastonbury. It has, however, become a challenge as of late with this windy weather, and I'm either debating sellotape, or just leaving at home. Probably just leave at home - I don't have time for eyeliner in the mornings, let alone sticking my hat to my hair.

Apart from those main points, I've floated around happily for the last months in haunts of London with friends and wine, seen my first Opera, found a love of olives, lost my third phone this year and fourth bankcard, and been to a premier of a film I worked on. It's been a while since the last blog post, but once L.A. rolls around in January I'm determined to be much more blog savvy and wow you all with epic tales of super-size portions and Brad Pitt sightings.

That's enough from me now, as I have a Halloween rave this weekend and have grand ideas of dressing as a giant Moth (think Silence of the Lambs). However, since last years Bat Outfit with an umbrella strapped to myself was a fiasco in the wind of Wellington, I've got to be more practical with this one. After all, dancing for hours with some giant wings spells disaster, not to mention the need for a lot of deodorant. I'll figure it out (...end up being a vampire).

Happy Halloween!

Emily x

Graduating, tanning and dreaming...

So here I am, 26 years old and finally a graduate. Never one to win a race, predictably I did it 5 years later then my parents wanted. And predictably the weather was a heatwave, the Graduation Hall had no air-con, and I was sliding around inside my gown. Which was about 3 sizes too long and permanently falling off my shoulders. Cue me asking any random I could to "pin me in". But the sun was shining, the parents were happy(ish), and I even got my own shout-out due to my course no longer even being a degree (yes Leeds realised it was a hopeless course mmm about mid-way through me being on it). Nothing like good money wasted! I also got asked by several students 'what the job market looked like'. Whilst it made me feel rather self-important, I also felt I was looking the closer age of 30 and settled this unease with a few Peach Bellini's in the Union afterwards. De-light-ful #newfavouritedrink (yes i hash-tagged!). And whilst my mum got drunk and threw scathing remarks at my divorced father over the Union table I still couldn't help but think all in all it had been rather a successful day.

Back to London and a few days later I went for a highly anticipated high-tea at The Savoy with my godmother. And I have two words for you. STALE SANDWICHES. I may be from the North, but a high-class hotel can't fool me, I know if my breads been out in the sun a bit too long. And my finely cut sarnies were slightly tough around the edges. But the cakes were tasty, and no eyebrows were raised when I substituted my choice of tea for a coca-cola. But still, should have gone The Ritz...

The weather in London is currently amazing, and this long long heatwave makes me feel great about the fact that I can't afford to go on holiday this year. Being a freelancer I'm working on a rewarding project at the moment called tanning. Its currently looking good.

Apart from graduating, eating stale-ish sandwiches at The Savoy and re-hydrating this heatwave with Pimm's, I've been having some wholly sunny thoughts about the future. Sunny thoughts which involve moving to LA in January and working there for a few months. Just to ward off the cold winter blues in London, and to split up Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes (joke!) (well...kinda). I've always wanted to be one of these people who work in LA for a few months of the year, and then London the rest so I've decided I'm just going to do it! Flight is getting booked the minute my bank account starts to resemble the plus side.

Hope everyone in the UK is enjoying this glorious weather!

Emily x

Made in Shoreditch 2013 Fashion Show, London.

 

Deep down in the midst of East London, an unused warehouse was turned for one night only into a creative mesh for art music and fashion. 

Bringing together the best new emerging talent from London’s fashion, music and art scenes, Made in Shoreditch’s 2013 Fashion Show went off spectacularly two Saturday's ago. Ten of East London's hottest independent designers showcased their winning designs. The look was modern, space age and ethereal.

London’s emerging talent on the art scene showcased pieces around the warehouse. My favorite was the Cara Delevingne inspired Graffiti canvas by up-and-coming London artist Danny Mendoza.

Big thanks to Off Beat, Vivid Fashion Group, and One Piece who put together a fantastic night. Bring on 2014’s!

Emily x

Made in Shoreditch : 2013 Fashion Show

Uber uber excited for this one. This time in two weeks I will be at The 2013 Shoreditch Fashion Show. Showcasing ten independent designers, this talented bunch was selected from a judging panel headed up by Mischa Barton, Eliza Doolittle and Oliver Proudlock.

Produced by Vivid Fashion Group and supported by Made in Shoreditch Magazine,
the event takes place at the Hoxton Docks. Along with the catwalk, the event will also feature fashion illustrations, projections, photography, installations, designs accompanied by live bands and DJ's. 

A limited number of tickets are on sale for the general public. For more information about the event check out: http://madeinshoreditch.co.uk

Emily x

Ye of little faith...

So the last month has found my heart racing, my nights sleepless, all over relentless thoughts about a very large package. But not that kind of package. A package that involves excitement, enjoyment, and hours of undressing. Once again, not that kind of package. 

15kg of clothes, shoes, hats, headbands, scarves, and even the obligatory Polaroid camera has for the last three months been floating somewhere around the Atlantic since it's departure in a sellotaped laundry bag from Melbourne in January. And since I accidentally lost (threw out) it's tracking receipt I have been haunted by images of extremely well- dressed Pirates in hand-made floral headbands and sparkly hot-pants. If they resemble Jack Sparrow I could have maybe forgiven them for their assumed thievery, but unfortunately I think Johnny Depp is rather an unfair benchmark for the modern day sea-men (jeez the innuendos are just coming in this post...) (Oh touché. Again!) 

I need to apologize to Australian Post who I wake up most mornings cursing, and the lady on the phone at the Liverpool Post Office who I relentlessly wailed too. I have not been so happy since I found out I didn't fail my degree, and that Wispa bars were being remade. 

After all - 'one thing lost, another found' - Maybe this is karma's way of totaling out the entire make-up bag I drunkenly lost on the tube last week. (To wake up and discover this catastrophe when I had to go in for the first time to a production company I desperately wanted to impress. Ladies a tip : buying whatever products your local Sainsbury's stocks at 7.30am in the morning before running onto the tube does not impress). Some might say that was just me being hopelessly (and drunkenly) idiotic, but I'd like to think it was meant to happen in order for me to get my clothes. 
As after all how could I get by without these :

oh and these:

oh and let's not forget this sparkly dress and bag that were oh so nearly goners...

 

Obviously the weather will have to perk up before these little numbers can get cracked out. I would like to say we can expect that soon, but seen as we're into April and we've been battling snowstorms today I'm just going to hold back on any predictions on that front.

Wardrobe, come to mama. 

Emily x

'BITCH IM FROM THE SW12' : A load of air from the Big Smoke

So as per life has taken over, and my blog has suffered terribly as a result. Sorry blog. But it's the Easter weekend, I have a few days to myself (albeit to nurse hangovers) so what better way to make myself feel better then to write about my life?

So I moved down to London mid-January amidst the snow. And here I am end of March still amidst the snow. As yes, England has not warmed up, and this elusive spring is still looking very elusive. I don't need to hear about how "it was 25 degrees this time last year", all I am very aware of (whilst I place layer over layer to leave the house) is how it most certainly is not right now. The only part of my body which is cheering this freezing weather is my lungs. I have cut back ridiculous amounts on cigarettes as when weighing up whether to turn into a block of ice for a hit of smoke, I choose not.

Since moving to London I've moved house, moved jobs, and lost numerous valuable items. I've fallen asleep on tubes, fallen down tube stairs, made some amazing new friends and caught up with amazing old friends. I've learnt to never trust my navigation skills (ending up in Guildford instead of Picadilly Circus can do that to you), but to always walk with purpose: even if your getting on the tube going north when you should be going south. (It just makes you feel more clued up). (Even though your obviously not). I've had a huge shock at the price of things here in regards to my meager wage, and whilst trying to live the high-life have been surviving off free Nutella sandwiches at work. Everyday. For about 6 weeks. I've been drunk in more bars then I can remember names, yet still haven't scratched the surface of London's nightlife.

All in all I LOVE IT. I love it! I can't express the natural high I still get when I get out at Piccadilly station each morning to be surrounded by grand buildings, theaters, statue's and London's iconic red buses. Maybe its because I was away for so long, but I cant help but feel proudly British for our wonderful, vibrant, buzzing capital. I love the accents, the cheek, the banter and I have wholeheartedly fallen for this city and been swallowed up by it. My itchy feet are itching a lot less now I'm living in the Big Smoke.

I'm living South of the river in the most beautiful house in Balham. Resigning myself to the fact that I would probably be searching for a place to live for weeks, view numerous pokey rat infested flats, and end up living with a strange old Latvian man in a damp room, luckily my experience could not have been more different. I put up an ad, had a response, went to view the house and BANG love at first sight. With the house and housemate. Trying not to be too rash (I'm always far too rash) I thought I can't get the first house I viewed, but left the property with myself and Lisa (my housemate) gushing "I shouldn't say this but I really want to live with you". So after working out ze old finances I did. No rats or strange old foreign men in sight, my new house comprises of myself and three other lovely creatives. Working in PR, Fashion and Film we all just clicked. We also all like dancing. A lot.

 Job-wise I moved from my original role at SpliceTV to Rushes Post-Production house. Whilst getting on thoroughly well with everyone at both Splice and Rushes, I have had to come to the conclusion that Post just isn't for me. I much prefer being part of the initial creation and organization of a project, rather then the tweaking of the end result. Being a hater of someone that sits and moans about a situation rather then changing it, I have decided to shortly leave the world of Post and go freelance. I've met some lovely people in Production down here so it should all work out. Hell I've been living off Nutella sandwiches for the last month, so living like this for a bit longer can't hurt too much.

And that's that. The shortest summary I could make of my last two months down here. I don't intend to leave it two months till the next post, and I don't intend to write quite so much in the next post. More pictures, less writing. On some frivolous fanciable subject hopefully. (Or as my mother would describe : "the internet thing you do with bad grammar where you post pictures like no-body ever had the idea to turn a pair of jeans into shorts before?").

Happy Easter everyone!

Emily x