R.I.P Mark Darcy

Helen Fielding has played a blinder. 

In a brilliant PR move, not only has she 'leaked' a pre-publication teaser for the next instalment of the Bridget Jones saga but this 'teaser' has let slip that the much-loved Mark Darcy has shuffled off this mortal coil. 

In response to this there's been a social media mutiny and his death has even been reported on the national news! 

My first response was utter shock, followed by an immediate need to read the book!  

And it seems most of the female population will do the same, even those who swear they're not going to in some sort of misguided protest at Fielding daring to kill off such a national treasure. 

Therein lies the masterstroke by the author! Such controversy has got a nation nattering and a nail biting wait for the publication date of 10 October! 

Personally I think it would have been nicer if Darcy was still around and perhaps the story centred around him having an affair.  But nice doesn't sell millions of books.  A Bridget without her Darcy seems inconceivable but the good news is that the devillish Daniel Cleaver is still around to no doubt cause his usual sexy mischief.  

Can't wait for the 10th! 

Anyone for an arty party?

Here's the problem: it's a Thursday night and I'm fed up with the TV but pubs/bars/clubs aren't having the same intoxicating allure either.  

So what do I do?  The sum total of my sporting prowess was a hole in one at crazy golf in 1995.  So joining a sports club is an option I don't particularly want to consider - ever. 

But when a friend invited me to a private view in an art gallery in London, I was pleasantly intrigued.  Especially when coupled with the magic phrase: free drink! 

Because that's what it essentially is: a kind of party in a gallery where people can mingle over a drinkie (or 2) surrounded by beautiful pieces of art.  

So obviously my first thought was not about the logistics of how I was going to get there but the more pressing detail of what to wear (of course). 

The only private views I'd ever been to were for end-of-term shows we put on when I was an art student.  I'd never been to a proper one before; by that I mean one where the art on show was for sale and the asking price upwards of £3500 - gulp! 

A cursory look at the blurb on the invite told me that the works of art on display were sculptures. The gallery was just off Oxford St in London's West End.

So armed with this info I tried to work out the type of people who would be there, and more crucially, what they'd be wearing. 

Would such an event attract the hip, arty types of Hoxton and Shoreditch? Or would its more mainstream location draw in the conservative connoisseurs who view art more as a business investment than for its aesthetic qualies? 

Well, of course I had to wear black; it's derigeur for any art enthusiast don't you know!  And this gorgeous dress from Boohoo.com ticks all the boxes: obviously it's black, the PVC panel adds an edgy touch but the contour-hugging tailoring is both sexy and sophisticated: perfect for an evening soirée.  

But what to wear with it: it's September and the weather has turned a bit chilly so I'll need a jacket.  I don't want to wear all black; It's too obvious.  But this longline jacket from River Island adds a splash of colour yet is still cool enough to rub shoulders with the arty elite.

And these boots, also from River Island, are amazing too.  Cool, sexy and bang on trend. 

So fast forward to the evening of the do, and we're standing in a long, white room lined with beautiful sculptures - fragmented female faces with doleful expressions hinting at personal sadness and inner traumas.  

And we were the only ones there, apart from a couple of others, a man and woman both dressed almost identically in denim jackets and cargo shorts. 

Did I feel overdressed? Hell yes! 

Was I bothered?  Definitely not! I'm always overdressed - in fact I reckon my epitaph should read "Never knowingly under-dressed".   I really don't do casual, it's not a word in my vocabulary.  

However, fast forward an hour and the room was buzzing, the drinks flowing and the fashions a heady eclectic mix of Chelsea designer chic and punky art school cool.  

And then there was me dressed head-to-toe in my high st finery but of course - always with glamour! 

For a different social experience get on the mailing list for your local gallery and get invites mailed to you for private views and exhibition opening nights.  

I went to Lionel Smit's Fragmented at the Rook and Raven Gallery in Central London. For more information visit their website at www.rookandraven.co.uk 

Great Pleasures in Life #2: Owning a Dog (or 3)

This is a photo of my latest new arrival: a 6-week-old Jack Russell/Yorkie cross named Biscuit and every time I look at him he fills my heart with utter joy! 

I'm Mummy to 2 more dogs though: Sammy, a Jack Russell, who is 15 (who I've owned since he was a mere 10 weeks) and Susie, yet another Jack Russell who is a two-year-old rescue dog.  Here they are dressed up for a wintry walk back in January: 

I'd like to say they are decked in Gucci's finest but to be honest it's Pets at Home!  But don't they look lovely! 

Dogs:  the greatest friends I've ever known.  Their love is unconditional and the greeting you get when you come home is always awesome! 

AW13 - how to do punk with glamour!

Punk's not dead - it's alive and spitting and residing in your favourite high st stores for AW13.

Illustration by Beverley Duddridge

Be afraid - be very afraid?

Well, to me it's all a bit of a double-edged sword.

Let me explain.  I used to be a punk many moons ago but not when It was in its infancy.  More when it had shrivelled up and taken to sitting in the corner of a grotty pub snarling at everyone.  So to actually try and find punk clothes in the high st of the small town I lived in as a teen was like trying to find a shop that sells chocolate in the Sahara desert.

So I did what any born-too-late punk would do:  I covered all my clothes with millions of safety pins and my mum refused to be seen out with me in public. Sorry Mum!

But seeing slogan tees and tartan drainpipe jeans everywhere has elicited in me a kind of nostalgic curiosity. 

Even though I'm now a fully fledged member of the girly-girl club and love nothing more than glamour and glitz (the very antithesis of what Punk is all about) I can't help but swoon over little tartan kilts with humongous safety pins (hurrah) and don't-mess-with-me faux leather jeans.

"But could I wear Punk without a) looking very stupid and b) compromising my need to look glam at all times?" I hear you cry.

Well, the answer is a) yes and b) yes.  

Basically anyone can wear punk.  The trick is not to dress in it from head to toe.  After all, you really don't want to look like you're going to a fancy dress party.  

By all means wear tartan trousers with a slogan tee but throw a tailored pin stripe or black jacket over the top and wear with strappy heels for a cool yet classy look. 

Jacket - Zara

Trousers - Pull and Bear

Top - Mango

Shoes - Carvela by Kurt Geiger

Not a fan of the slogan tee? Then substitute it for a satiny blouse in electric blue which will look striking paired with the tartan trousers, whilst still retaining an air of sophisticated glamour.  

Top - Mango

And if the idea of tartan trousers leaves you cold, consider a cute tartan mini like this one from Mango