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

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