Hot Summer Sun : London Life

Good Morning London!

I can only profusely apologize for my lack of time in the blogsphere since I returned from L.A. On touch down at Heathrow airport from Los Angeles, the international idiot that I am had managed to make it back without a laptop. Having left my pride and joy (not to mention all my work!) back in Detroit airport it took a good month and plenty of panicked 3am phone-calls to Detroit airport staff, Fedex America staff, and some amazing help off a friend's American family to get it safely back in my arms. Well, that is, apart from the 3 large cracks down the center of its screen.

We wont mention the fact that this disaster could have been averted had I not left it amongst the sweet aisle when buying chocolate on the stop-over flight...

Life's been hectic since my return, and I've spent the last few months in London jumping from one home to another, jumping from one freelance Production job to another, and in-between all of this attempting to find a frozen yogurt which rival's L.A's. As of yet America's froyo is still winning. I have finally settled, and on watching television in my new home last night it was amazingly rewarding to see two of my recent adverts I've helped produce come on within the same ad-break. Hard-work paying off!

My clothing line has been a slow work in progress, but my first design is done, and has been sent off to be printed. Now I just need to spend a few days sitting around in arty cafes, eating overpriced cakes, and throwing out ideas to uninterested friends to come out with a one-syllable brand name. On the sideline I have signed up with a modelling agency for print work, and I am shooting for a friends headband brand this week.

Recently finding myself single in this big ol' city I have done what any self respecting 20-something would do, and joined Tinder of course! Although I really feel the need to have words with the many guys who seem to feature exotic birds in there profile pictures...what is all that about?! I also need to have a serious word with my friends who have a great time matching me with complete crazies whenever I leave the room...

If one wishes to read a hilarious article on just how BAD men are on tinder then my Australian friend Alex conducted her own little experiment here : https://funnellism.wordpress.com/2014/07/01/proof-men-love-crazy-women/
 

With England beating Barbados temperatures in its heatwave this last month, I do not feel so bad about my so far lack of a summer holiday abroad. What does make one feel bad however, is attending LoveBox Festival in 31 degree heat, only to hydrate on alcohol. All day. The inevitable dehydration was nicely set-off the sunburn. Which in turn was nicely set off by my glittery hot-pants.

But a summer holiday is not completely lost for me, and Ibiza is on the cards for September. Now as an Ibiza virgin at the age of 27, this holiday has been long over-due. Too long have I heard people rave about Pacha, the best DJ's in the world, and the overuse of body paint... well soon enough I can be annoying people with my tales of raves and glitter! 'Future tattoo funds' have been changed to 'Ibiza overpriced drink funds', and I have Kevin and Perry Go Large on repeat.  

The city is utterly captivating in the summer sun, and I would rather be nowhere else. London's hot evenings were made for picnics, parks, views, wine and friends... something which I am making the most of.

Happy Summer!

Emily x

Los Angeles to London. With love (and extra baggage...)

So here I am at LAX, awaiting my flight.

I'm too excited to make London my base again. I fell in love with the city last summer, and I'm sure that feeling will continue this year. It's about time I began to root myself, stop always flying away and have a base (for a time). I'm sure the fact that I know I'm coming home to warmer weather then I left is prompting this thought, but hell, I feel like being more settled. And what can settle one more then the pitter-patter of tiny feet? No, not a baby I hear you gasp...but a sausage dog? Ive wanted one for far too long now. Maybe the time is finally right? I'm sick of pretending to walk 'Frankie' down the street when no-ones around, maybe I just need to man up and walk a REAL one. Although 'Frankie' is very good with commands!

But that's a by-thought, really whats occupying my mind is two things. Number one; quite how expensive and inaccessible is froyo going to be back in the UK, and number two; quite how much money do I need to open my own froyo palace in East London?

I've got far too much stuff. I'm currently wearing five layers underneath a fur coat, and I've got Reece's Buttercups tucked into my shoes. The metal detector is going to have a whale of a time when I go through, and the Reece's are already starting to melt from the heat radiating off my highly layered body. This is going to be one very messy arrival at London Heathrow. I do this every time and never learn. Next time I'm going to need a man to help with this, or at least have enough left on my credit card to buy extra baggage allowance. I'm now starting to panic that I gave my boyfriend the right flight arrival details, as if not I'll be paying people in squashed Reece's Buttercups to help me lug it all onto the tube. Oh who am I kidding, I'll have eaten them all on the flight.

I give my tan three weeks until I'm back to applying to several layers of Garnier sun-shimmer. And I've given my social life two weeks where I can loftily say 'Oh this tan? It's just from living in Los Angeles the last three months dah-ling'. And then it will be over. And people will be coming back from Ibiza more bronzed, and I'll be fuming as I spent all my would-be Ibiza funds on drinking Slurpee's out here.

But I've had the best time, met some amazing people (although not Ryan Gosling), and happily ticked off one of my life's ambitions. I couldn't be prouder of myself for just doing it, and couldn't stress more the belief that if there's something you want to do, well you should just do it (as long as its like socially acceptable ya know). 

Oh and Dad, I'm onto Tattoo no.7. I'm sorry, but it had to be done. I now bear an angel wing behind my right ear as a dedication to my time in the City of Angels. I hope it looks good, as I can't see behind my ear, and I went to the tattoo shop on my own. Hold up - he's blatantly inked a penis behind my ear hasn't he?! I knew I shouldn't have made that joke about his beard...

Los Angeles you've been the best, but London, your going to be even better.

Emily x