A last post

Inevitably, everything comes to an end, and now it’s the turn of Fashion Limbo to close shop.

I created this space back in 2008. I spent most of my life in an office lit by fluorescent lamps, and conversation was either about how very little anyone cared about documentation – my job – or who was banging whom. Frustrated with the fact that no one around cared about the things that made me “click”: fashion, art and music, Fashion Limbo was born. I marvelled at how easy it was to build a world of my own, still conversing by myself, but conversing nonetheless. And guess what? Little by little, many of you joined me in the talk. I got things out of it that I never thought I would: great gigs – thanks Miniguide, thanks Michael – new like-minded friends, I even got trolls – oh how I loved those that failed to grasp the meaning of sarcasm, and had fun insulting me! I got invited to parties, was sent freebies, and even managed to see the inside of London Fashion Week – thanks Jill!

Alas, I’m done now. Fashion Limbo is going to exist for a while longer, but no new content will be uploaded. My Facebook page will be deleted in the coming weeks.

My writing career lives on, but it won’t to be under the Fashion Limbo constraint. Unexpectedly, the little world I created for myself has ended up being a bit of a cage too. So I’m flying free.

You will still find me on Twitter and Instagram under the same monicker, because I still exist in my own fashion limbo. I am still into clothes -especially leopard print coats – sequinned trainers, cute shops, good coffee and anything with a sausage dog.

However, my fashion habits have changed. I barely shop anymore, I can’t afford it and also, I don’t agree with the existing fast-fashion industry. I don’t get excited when I walk into a shop with humongous amounts of merchandise, I don’t smile when I see a big brand ripping off some artist’s design, selling it at the price of a sandwich. Frankly, I cannot happily contribute to an industry that seems to care very little about the people who make clothes, the environmental damage it does or the sheer amounts of waste it creates.

Personally, I am not sad to shut down this website, on the contrary. I am truly excited for what lies ahead. My future just doesn’t reside in fashionlimbo.com anymore.

I cannot begin to thank each and every one of you who actually read what I wrote. I loved your comments, your shares, your nudges on social media. Thanks for joining me in limbo for these past years. It’s been a wonderful ride.

It’s not goodbye, it’s an extremely camp and warm see-you-later 🙂

xxxxx

Janet: 8 of her best fashion moments

My brother played an important role in my early childhood. Like any younger sibling, I closely monitored his every move, wondering about his obsession with trainers of a certain brand or taking note of his opinions about the Marvel universe. I also discovered music through what he listened to, which during the early years revolved mostly around Michael Jackson – and a questionable Samantha Fox period. However, the rebel in me couldn’t embrace Michael just like that. Learning Michael had a sister, I became a feminist before I knew what it meant, rooting for the girl. That was the start of my obsession with Janet, Miss Jackson if you’re nasty.

I fell for her amazing moves, her gorgeous voice, and those amazing cat-like-eyes. It was a pretty serious girl crush. While Madonna was my Bible, Janet was my glossy magazine. From her choice of clothes, to how she wore her hair, every style she rocked, fascinated me. Here are my favourite Janet moments, über stylish examples of pop music at its mightiest.

1. The Pleasure Principle

Ever dreamt of moving to the Big Apple and living in an abandoned warehouse? I did, thanks to Flashdance and this video. It’s impossible not to watch in awe as the adidas-clad feet strike some truly awesome moves, this was Janet coming out of her shell, finding her own persona. It’s also proof of her raw talent before she became a household name. 

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2. Rhythm Nation

Nowadays, you would be hard-pressed to find a 23-year-old pop star, fully clothed, head to toe and with shadows hiding half her body on every frame, seriously limiting her exposure. Similarly, you would struggle to find a choreography as effective, sharp and powerfully executed. It’s a flawless pop hit and cemented the launch of Janet Jackson worldwide. It also blew my mind.

3. Love Will Never Do (Without You)

Herb Ritts was one of those talents we lost way too early, and part of his legacy are videos like Wicked Game, Cherish and Janet’s Love Will Never Do (Without You). Sporting a cropped top, high-waisted jeans, Janet epitomises fashion in the 90s. When I first heard LWND I was convinced it was a duet, but it’s all Janet, showing off a stunning vocal range that makes this single so special. There isn’t a song out there quite like this one.

4. Rolling Stone magazine cover by Patrick Demarchelier

This iconic image brings us to the entire “Janet.” era, the one that made me record That’s The Way Love Goes  on a VHS tape every time it came on TV, over and over again. I ended up learning every frame, every move, every line uttered by Janet and her troupe. I bought a choker just like hers and copied her make-up. Sidenote: how cute is J-Lo in the video?

5. Got Til it’s Gone

A beautiful video shot by Mark Romanek, it’s stylistically gorgeous, complimenting the trip hop beats of the song flawlessly. Janet’s look is a complete departure from her previous work, and it came after a painful period of self-discovery and acceptance in Janet’s life. The Velvet Rope is a masterpiece of an album and even today, it sounds fantastic. 

6. Everytime by Matthew Rolston

It’s just Janet, with a piece of fabric to cover her modesty and a lot of water. It’s stunning.

7. Scream by Mark Romanek

And this is where I get controversial, because, in my opinion, Janet steals the show. The PVC trousers, the spiky jumper, that -insane- coat, it all seems made for her. I will not elaborate on how she wears her hair. Let’s just say I loved it so much I asked a hairdresser to recreate it…with very dodgy results.

8. All Nite (Don’t Stop) by Francis Lawrence

No one has earn her abs more than Janet and she knows how to flaunt them. All Nite gives you goosebumps at the start, with Janet introducing the brilliance of the song: “this is sick”. The tiniest of cropped tops, a sexy game of lights and shadows, and we are gifted with yet another masterful choreography.

Sadly, everything she has done since that “boobgate” incident has been blatantly ignored and blacklisted by the-powers-that-be. A female nipple is still seen as something offensive, Instagram and Facebook urging everyone to cover up or be banned. Whether it was deliberate, whether it was a wardrobe malfunction, why does anyone care?

Janet is the only artist – apart from Madge – who has an exclusive playlist on my Spotify, my ringtone is Janet’s intro to Escapade and yes, I did lose the plot slightly when I heard she was making a comeback. Unsuprisingly, I am not the only one currently fangirling over Janet. 

Her new single, No Sleeep, is another of those quiet and sexy affairs she is so great at delivering. Fait accompli Miss Jackson, it’s so nice to have you back.

The trouble with not acting your age

A few years ago, I used to be an amateur actress. I even took part in a huge production. The day we opened, we did it in front of 500 people. I knew my lines, wore the heavy 18th century dress, petticoat and all, and walked out on stage. Leading the rest of the cast, I attempted to close a parasol I carried. Not only did I fail at closing it, I sent the damn thing flying. It slipped right out of my hands, launching into the air and falling right at the edge of the stage. I heard the gasps and the giggles, and my heart sank. Panicking and breaking a sweat, all I could do was pick up my parasol and say my lines. The show went on.

People may have laughed at me, they may have thought I screwed up my performance, who knows. I didn’t have the world’s media watching me, or millions of people tuning in to an online stream. Twitter didn’t exist back then, and I wasn’t a 56-year-old professional performer. I wasn’t Madonna, falling at the Brits. 

Last night Madonna fell from a raised part of her stage, to the floor a metre down, while almost choking on an Armani cape that refused to unhook. It was not a light tumble. The entire world gasped, a lot of us cringed, and due to today’s technology, we all got to see Madonna’s look of horror. Appearing to be sore, she missed a couple of her lines but went on with her performance, singing live and dancing in frightfully high heels.

The first thing I thought after her fall was the sheer amount of negative remarks it was going to generate. Not negative as in “your performance was not the best” or “what a disappointment”. The ones that troubled me were those that, for the last years, talk about a 56-year-old in need of a retirement plan. The headlines that call Madge an oldie that should cover up or behave appropriately. The comments on social media that express disgust or wonder about her children’s wellbeing whenever she choses to “not act her age”. 

A number suddenly becomes such an important matter, warranting discussion and heavy criticism if it dares go over 50. Apparently once you reach that amount, you’re done.

I wonder about those who cringe at Madonna flashing her bum, or talking about sex… are they grown up? Are they ignorant teenagers who think it’s cool to live fast and die young? Are they women over 50 who abandoned their own dreams and can’t stand to see others doing it differently? Is it men who are throwing the nasty remarks? Being over 50 and being Madonna…how is that a bad thing? Why does it bother some so much?

When I was fifteen, a few years before my parasol fiasco, I lost one of my closest friends. She died of cancer. She never got to experience what turning 18 meant, she never grew up to reach 40 married or unmarried, who cares. She never made it pass 15.

Last year, gorgeous Averi, a wonderful girl I met through my sister, died at age 17. Cancer too. 

Reaching 50 is no easy task. The people that turn that age and continue to celebrate birthdays, have earned their right to be on this planet through survival, hard work and resisting the rubbish life throws at them. 

One of the ladies I admire the most, my aunt and best friend S., she’s around Madonna’s age and like the blonde pop star, still wears lipstick, still is a hell of a sexy kitten channeling Susan Sarandon. Should she dress differently?

C, another lady in my inner circle, separated from her husband when she was around Madonna’s age. She lives alone by the Mediterranean sea. She goes to parties, she does Yoga and now has re-discovered her singing voice, performing stunning solos to numerous audiences. Should she be dressing in black, covering her ankles? Is she not entitled to fall in love again? 

I’m certainly not acting my age. I’m not 25 anymore – I keep telling everyone I’m 28, you can guess whether that is true or not. I certainly don’t behave the accepted “standard” way. I’m not married, I don’t have children, I still rent, and I have no plans of doing what is expected of me. I never have. I’ve been judged, crucified, told I’m unbalanced for not “settling down”. I never will. My gender, the way I wear my hair, my job, and certainly my age, do not define me or my life. 

Age is a blessing, a massive gift. Women over 50 are not going to shrivel up and die. Give up the hate, Daily Mail and other tabloids, trolls and ageist idiots.

Madonna got up, she sang her lines, she nailed her performance. Even non-fans are praising the levels of professionalism of the biggest icon in music. Unlike many of her peers, she’s still here.

Life is to be celebrated, end of. If all you throw at the universe is your negativity and nasty thoughts don’t be ofended when I ignore the hell out of you, and dream to grow “old” like Madonna.

Pictures: BRITS, Fashion Limbo

The ultimate fashion tip

If there is one tip that I find actually works, and that can be applied to states of stress, depression, sickness, nervousness, moments in which everything surpasses me, it’s to make the effort to look good. Whether by styling my crazy hair, getting out of the pyjama bottoms – I could live in them – or applying some make-up. It works.

It’s about feeling good about myself, whenever I catch my reflection in the mirror or on a shop window. If I look good, I have something less to fret about, adding ease of mind and helping me feel better. Think about the opposite: if I do nothing, go out without washing my face or choose the beaten up old pair of yoga trousers to dress for the post office, it’s
very likely I will soon regret not having made a slight effort.
Why give myself the extra worry? It can take less than five minutes. These are my rules:

1 – Regarding make up, bucket loads are not required. Maybe mascara and some lipgloss, or just some foundation and a light blush. Personally, I feel made up with just some brown eyeliner, concealer to cover some dodgy areas and lip balm.

2 – Never underestimate the power of a nice fragrance. It’s been scientifically proven – that’s “Jess talk” for I read it somewhere – that people wearing perfume feel better about themselves. I love refreshing body sprays, no fuss and quick to apply after a nice shower.

3 – Invest in some nice loungewear, or ask for it on your next birthday. It’s not the same to walk around the house in your pyjamas – which is absolutely fine to do once a week, with a tub of ice cream, and The Good Wife on repeat -, than to do so with some nice-fitting cotton trousers and a flattering top. This applies especially if you work from home. It’s just too tempting to make no effort, and speaking by experience, it eventually will make you feel pretty miserable.

If it works for me, it can work for you. Whatever you are going through, whatever is making you curse your life at the moment, you deserve to feel better, you deserve to be happy about the way you look. You deserve to smile. Never forget about yourself.

Picture: Fashion Limbo

Thirty years of purple

Thirty years ago our lives became more purple. Thirty years since a short guy from Minneapolis fooled those who thought he was shy and insecure. The world became sexier, all because of Purple Rain. Prince was the audacious mind behind the project, an album and a film.

I was too young to understand the complexity of Prince’s catalogue, but I vividly remember – it is one of my earliest memories – asking my father why he seemed overwhelmed in front of the audience he was about to perform to. My father explained that he was hugely talented, but also quite shy. That’s the myth, that the man to become one of the most influential figures in music, lacked confidence. He soon got rid of that image by shocking audiences with his raunchy performances, explicit lyrics – Darling Nikki for starters – and overtly sexual album covers.

I grew up loving this man. I stole my brother’s Batman soundtrack to listen to Vicky Waiting on repeat. Playing Get Off really loudly, I heard my shocked mother scream from the kitchen “What did he just say?!” At the time I innocently ignored my mother’s question, but this is how the controversial lyrics went:

“I clocked the jizz from a friend of your’s named Vanessa Bet, Bet
She said you told her a fantasy that got her all wet, wet
Something about a little box with a mirror and a tongue inside
What she told me then got me so hot I knew that we could slide”

Purple Rain was how Prince came into my life. His eyeliner, the high heels, the gorgeous jackets, everything about his style had me in awe.

If there was one song that changed my life, it was When Doves Cry. The opening with the mesmerising guitar rift, the pulsating beat, the lyrics, have had me obsessed since childhood. It remains one of my favourite tunes ever, to the point that if a song reminds me of it, it instantly becomes part of my playlist. Jessie Ware’s latest release, Tough Love, has me thinking me of Prince’s original, and I love it.

And another song with heavy purple vibes, Colour Of Moonlight, the song that introduced me to Grimes. If you know of any other piece of work that you think is influenced by When Doves Cry, do let me know.
Thirty years on, Prince is still everywhere.

Picture: Prince, Warner Bros.

Does anyone actually care about sweatshops?

A year ago, a Bangladesh clothing factory collapsed, killing 1,129 people. I write this number** but I still barely believe it: one-thousand-one-hundred and twenty-nine human beings died while creating garments for Benetton, Mango, Primark, El Corte Inglés and many other brands: tops, dresses, coats, clothing we get for, really, very little money.

At the time there was so much written about it, petitions pushed forward,  many brands signed pledges to strive to improve workers’ conditions, to ensure every person involved in the process of creating a garment could work in complete safety and for a fair pay.

However, it only takes a short look into the fashion industry to realise that, this is not something that is easily done by brands – it takes a lot of money, time and ultimately, will. More importantly, if the customer expects to pay a tenner, five dollars or euros for a t-shirt, then the conditions in which the garment is produced are going to be extremely cheap, quite basic, and with pretty slim safety checks.

So, have my shopping habits changed since the Rana Plaza disaster? Do I shop and if so, am I willing to pay more for clothing that’s not made in sweatshops?

As a freelancer, at this moment in time cash is pretty limited, so you could say I’m the perfect consumer for low-cost brands. Whenever I get some money, I could easily walk into H&M, or Primark, and score an outfit for less than 20 euro. Get a fashion fix, think nought of the consequences.

I love fashion, and I used to fantasise about having a HUGE wardrobe. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t genuinely curious about the latest Topshop collection, or that I don’t get excited when I hear of H&M designer collaborations, but lately, there is a little voice inside of me that tells me that this wouldn’t be right.

This year I decided to stop eating meat, I did so because I feel strongly about animal rights, and because I believe there is an excess of meat in supermarkets. Too much waste, too many animals kept in horrible conditions, and way too many chemicals injected in what’s supposed to be our food. I’m tackling my fashionista habits in the same manner: I have stopped going shopping. I unsubscribed from Topshop newsletters, “unliked” Facebook pages by Zara, Mango and H&M, deleted their Apps from my phone, and I avoid the areas in Barcelona in which these stores are located.

So, while I’m not  boycotting brands per se – which, maybe, could be the only way forward -, I have began to shop differently, driving my attention away from these major labels.

I believe there is no denying we buy way too many clothes, there are countless amounts of brand new garments that don’t even make it to the shops. A contact at H&M once told me that from the Martin Margiela collaboration for H&M, certain stores received an excess of stock, with dozens of boxes left unopened. This is the product of hours of underpaid work in a factory: waste.

So, how do I go about finding cheap fashion? Currently I’m focusing on several alternatives: charity shops, Ebay, and vintage stores. Recycling has never been easier, and with more and more websites like Vestiaire Collective to do so, it’s become a lot of fun, and for some, the only way to shop. It’s kinder to the environment and goes against the main point of fast fashion: we don’t just throw it away, we give it further life. I recently scored a Zara leopard print coat via Ebay. I could have bought any of the replicas the brand has produced since, but I decided second-hand (and cheap) was the only way to justify the purchase.

This post is not written with the intention of tooting my own horn. I simply wanted to give my own take on the video above. I could do more, and sometimes it’s hard to resist the power of shopping therapy. I also understand that not everyone is prepared to shop differently. Maybe it needs to be a combined effort: our responsibility as consumers to drive sales of ethically sourced fashion, and of the brands with the most money and influence to find a way to really and truthfully change the way they do business.

After the Rana Plaza disaster, brands like Zara, Topshop and H&M continue to enjoy successful sales and huge profits. Their Apps are still downloaded, their Facebook and Twitter accounts attract hundreds of thousands of followers. H&M has developed their eco-friendly line further, but it’s a small side of their business. Most of their stock is still produced in “questionable” factories in Asia. Whether they can actually control what goes on at the end of the production line, remains to be seen.

Am I a dreamer? Should I be doing even more? Does anyone actually care about where our clothes come from? Do you ever think about sweatshops? Do let me know, on the comments below, or via Twitter, I’m always up for a friendly discussion 😉

Picture: Fashion Limbo

*Further reading: thanks to blogger and stylist Arash Mazinani for directing me to this:
“Why do we need a Fashion Revolution” by fashionrevolution.org. Worth checking out, they are organising an awareness day, on April 24th 2014, to get consumers to ask brands where their clothes come from. More info via their website and Twitter @Fash_Rev.

**Regarding the Rana Plaza death toll, 1,129 is the number on Wikipedia, while other sources claim it has gone up to 1,133.

The introverted teenager & the CD

I’ve always been very fond of my own company. Throughout my childhood I learnt that spending hours in my bedroom surrounded by music, not only kept me out of trouble but it was also an effective way of drowning my parents’ fights. I played Madonna, Michael Jackson, The Beatles, Prince, Abba, Bon Jovi, even Paul Simon. Then, as I reached my teens, I went through an intense yet short-lived New Kids On The Block phase, until I discovered Nirvana and Courtney Love. Yes, hardly a defined taste.

As an introverted girl, these private music sessions suited me. I lived in the south of Spain and went to catholic school up until the age of fourteen, with books and folders covered in Blond Ambition Tour pictures. I had unruly brown hair,  thick eyebrows, a huge dog, a vast music collection and problems at home. Prettier girls easily pulled the boy I liked or, alternatively, made me the somehow boring topic of their cruel gossiping.

At high school, I was never the “cool teenager”. I practically blended into the stained beige walls we had as background. I dreamt of cool clothes that I didn’t have, trendy curly hair that would never be mine, a certain brand of fitted jeans I couldn’t afford, and of flying out of Cordoba into a more vibrant life. I studied moderately hard and received good grades.

Me in my Keep The Faith Bon Jovi tee, supermarket trainers  for teen chic. My little sis plays the cute card

On weekends I stuck to my all-female group of friends, went to the minuscule bowling alley in the town centre and spent my pocket money on video games and drinks. I wore turtle-neck jumpers I “borrowed” from my mum – I also wore her boots, which weren’t even my size, and did the same with her Wonderbra. I caked my face in a powdered monotone peach shade, finishing it off with layer after layer of brown Revlon lipstick. I simply copied what my girlfriends did, never considering who I really was and what my looks said about me. Self-expression was confined to the words in my diary, safely written within by my four bedroom walls.

As a teen in the mid 90s, Britpop fever hit me hard, making me realise how great my native country was, with very few around me as enthusiastic as me. A few of my friends listened to Blur and Suede, which was fun, but then they moved on to Take That. I tried to get my dad to play Oasis in the car, but after the first guitar rifts in Roll With It, he would complain about the loud music and change the tape. Most of my boyfriends were more interested in The Offspring, Metallica, and Spanish rock singers trying really hard to be like Jim Morrison. My attempts to play DJ at parties lasted for less than a couple of songs before my choice of music was labelled “not fun” and swapped to some local band that regurgitated international sounds into something more simplistic, yet unsurprisingly popular.

It was during 1995 that I heard a song on a TV show that focused on international music charts, including the UK. I liked it so much, the second time I saw the video I recorded it on a videotape. I learned the lyrics, practised the moves, and that’s how I fell in love with a guy from Sheffield: the wonder that is Jarvis Cocker. My older brother was spending his summer holidays in England, so I asked him to bring me a copy of the song: Pulp’s Common People.

Whenever I listened to the CD single, every  hair in my body would somehow feel electrified – thankfully bushy eyebrows seemed unaffected. Each guitar, keyboard, drum, and the ridiculous amount of instruments on that song made me want to break into a dance every time the song started.

Through Common People, Disco 2000, later This Is Hardcore and its fascinating album cover, I began to understand who I wanted to be, and learnt how to express that outside of my diary. I read Smash Hits for the sole reason to hear about what was going on outside the charming little town I lived in. I bought a cheap silver faux-silk shirt in C&A and begged one of my aunts to cut all the stitches and sew it up again, to make it hug my skin. I cut one of my mother’s denim skirts to make it shorter and more rugged. I saved up to ask a pompous and rather terrible hairdresser to cut my hair like Justine Frischmann.

Outfit picture posing already happened in the 90s. Me age 15, with the silver shirt

It turns out, I ended up renting a flat above a shop, I cut my own hair, I got a job. I realised my dream of moving back to England, got a couple of extra gigs to pay for my studies, went to lectures smelling of fried food, to later go out “and dance and drink and…” you know how the song goes.

I now listen to Pulp’s Common People, and it is still, quite possibly, my favourite song ever. It was an anthem of what I was about to live, the people I was to meet just a few years later, the cheap clothes, the badly paid jobs, the debt I got myself into, the dodgy things we smoke, the awfully tasting alcoholic concoctions, the regrets the morning after… the life that was waiting for me.

I don’t have that silk shirt anymore, but I’m still an introvert. I still enjoy listening to everything from rap to folk music, by myself or with anyone that doesn’t mind me going into full music-nerd mode.  There is still no one quite like Jarvis. I still have that CD.

Pictures: Fashion Limbo, Island

6 beauty products I keep going back to

This is a post about certain beauty products I would buy in bulk if I could. Little fixes that I always stock up on whenever there’s a promotion. They work, and have changed my skin for the better.

It took me a few years to realise just how picky my skin could be. I never experienced acne as a teenager, but in my late twenties, it became a constant war, with visits to expensive dermatologists that served of very little, – not that I wouldn’t recommend going to one, I just didn’t find the right person to deal with my skin – years of scrubbing, using harsh chemicals and, ultimately, treating my skin really badly. It ended up being oily in some areas, yet extremely dry, dehydrated and flaky in others. With regards to what has worked in my case, it’s mostly down to gentle thorough cleansing, the right face cream and make up.

Lush has been a massive discovery to me. Angels on Bare Skin (Piel de Angel in the picture) is a fantastic cleanser I use twice daily with the hot cloth cleansing method (see Sali Hughes for this). It provides very gentle exfoliating, and cleanses without stripping your skin of very necessary oils. It smells like heaven: almond, lavender, chamomile. Then there’s Vanishing Cream, a light, über soft face cream with Witch Hazel extract (a natural antibacterial) and dashes of lavender, rose, grapeseed oil, honey and lindseed infusion. Both these products have done wonders for my skin, which at present, is perfectly clear and extremely healthy.

For when I need an extra pick-me up with my skin, I have Kiehl’s and it’s actually amazing Midnight Recovery Concentrate.

The first time I heard of this product I thought it was the result of an effective marketing campaign, and possibly a fad. However, even with the expensive pricetag (around €40 on my side) I decided to give it a go and Oh-My-Dior was I impressed. Every time I use it (after cleansing my skin, before applying my night cream) the morning after my skin looks plump and bright, as if I’ve slept for 10 hours. It’s basically beauty-sleep in a teeny weeny bottle. I only apply a couple of drops on my forehead, and around my eyes and cheeks. For me, it works, brilliantly.

With regards to make up, with my unruly and over-sensitive skin, most foundations would clog up my pores, and wearing anything for long hours became a no-no. That is until I came across bareMinerals.

Their Matte SPF15 Foundation agrees with my skin. It’s light, easy to apply – just make sure you invest in a good brush, specific for mineral powder -. If I feel like it, and need it for extra coverage, I grab my Mac concealer to camouflage any imperfections, and finish off with Mineral Veil also by bareMinerals.

Another miracle product comes in the form of a primer, by Urban Decay.

Their Eyeshadow Primer Potion comes in handy with my eye-liner addiction. I normally go for the original shade, and it’s simply brilliant. If I want eye make-up that stays in its place, all day, rain or shine, this is the product I go for.

Last but not least, my favourite lip balm, discovered via a goodie-bag, it has to be Carmex.

I would be lost without my daily dose of Carmex lip balm. Oh how many times have I ran through Gatwick airport in search of this little pot of subtle magic. It’s extremely pleasurable to wear. Works great when applied in a tiny amount (dab a tissue on your lips to remove excess) as a base for red lipstick.

And that’s it. These are the products I go back to, over and over. Tears will fall the day any of these go out of production, so I welcome any suggestions on your own favourites.

x

Pictures: Fashion Limbo

Flashing traffic with talent and a beautiful smile

I met such lovely people over the last 18 months. First it was Jill, the talented photographer behind streetstylelondon on a cold London morning in early 2012. We arranged to chat over coffee at Le Comptoir, a gorgeous restaurant/caffe in South Kensington. We talked so much, she introduced me to some of her talented friends and she even got me to go to London Fashion Week. Soon I realised I loved Jill more than I love her work, which is a lot. I keep going back to her website, admiring her work, hoping to take pictures like her one day, and we do chat now and then over e-mail.

Then during my early days  in Barcelona I met beautiful Priscillia, Parisian, but with some Spanish blood running through her veins. She used to be an accessories designer, a really good one too. She is now embarking on a completely different venture, to do with delicious French and Spanish patisserie. I was with her last Saturday and on our way back from lunch I took these pictures before she realised and stuck her tongue out at me.

I also loved Priscillia pretty soon after I met her, the more I get to know her, the more I know I’m going to truly miss her when she is no longer part of my life, as I doubt Barcelona can hold on to such multifaceted talent for long. She will probably fly off to her next adventure soon.

I may not be the best at taking pictures, or editing them, but I do know talent and true beauty when I see it. Jill and Priscillia have both qualities. One can only watch in awe…and take sneaky pictures 😉

Pictures: Fashion Limbo

Winter windows – Barcelona

Fellow fashion blogger Jai’me Jan has quite the visually moving website, Boy Meets Fashion, where he frequently features amazing window displays in London. This has always inspired me to head to the streets, camera in tow, to photograph examples of Visual Merchandising that I find interesting. Just before street gardening and lightening, balconies and windows surrendered to Christmas madness, some stores in Barcelona’s Passeig de Gracia were looking like this:

Dolce & Gabbana

Louis Vuitton

Louis Vuitton detail

Emporio Armani

In my personal opinion, windows here in Barcelona are not as visually stunning as in London, but there are some efforts that are worth sharing with you all.

Have a great start to December xx

Pictures: Fashion Limbo