'Get out of these wet clothes and into a dry Martini' - MADE IN CHELSEA

I spent 20 years of my life almost free of  reality TV*. I did enjoy Survivor though, however I can't vouch for anyone else in Britain as no-one else seems to have heard of it.. I managed to avoid eight years of Big Brother and although I  had a brief but very enjoyable flirtation with Celebrity Love Island, I was still predominantly anti reality TV. Until I came to uni. Every female had watched The Hills and everyone seemed to be the ultimate Big Brother fan. I was cruelly sucked in and even watched some episodes of The Hills so I knew what people were on about. By October I was avidly following the lives of brainless Cheshire teenagers in Living On The Edge. I've even managed to force myself to now thoroughly and genuinely enjoy Four Weddings. However much I despise weddings, marriage, cheesy gestures, butterflies and people who are in love I simply can't get enough of it. So now I am officially a reality TV 'fan' and am no longer ashamed (well, maybe I am a little bit) and recent favourites The Only Way is Essex and The Hotel have really sealed the deal. I still draw the line at American shows though, I'm not that hooked. I have no idea who the Kardashians actually are or why they are famous are and frankly I couldn't give less of a shit.

Anyway, back to the case in point. My love affair with The Only Way is Essex became an addiction and I dreaded the day it was over - what would I watch when I was low on grey matter now?? The withdrawal symptoms were soon soothed with E4's hypodermic needle full of delicious reality TV smack: Made in Chelsea. Gone are the boob jobs and white Landrovers of Essex, this time the screens are graced with posh young idiots (don't let the accent fool you into thinking they are any more intelligent than my dear favourite Amy Childs)  with nothing better to do than date models, drink champagne and talk about their eyelashes while dicking about in London's most exclusive postcodes. It is hilarious. You know how you laugh when you see someone fall over in the street or walk along with their skirt tucked in their knickers? Well, it's that kind of funny. I LOVE IT.

The cast all have stupid names, stupid hair, or in most cases both and despite the private education, the majority of them barely have a brain cell to rub together  (no Ollie, Binky and Cheska, Charles Dickens did not write Winnie The Pooh.) Amber is trying to start her own jewellery business by throwing a pretentious party and Caggie is a budding singer so wears lots of silver jewellery and denim shirts, clearly the next Joan Baez .... Francis Boulle may actually be one of the few with half a brain as he's CEO of some diamond business. cue him posing for a portrait, pretentious globe in hand, despite probably having a panic attack if he goes any further than Saville Row. A lot of them have 'jobs' but appear to be on gap decades at the moment which is convenient.

After just two episodes the 'big' story is Caggie fancies Spencer even though he has a pathetic haircut, Spencer really fancies Caggie too and has since he was 15 but now he lives with his model girlfriend Funda who briefly stars in the new Trainline advert ('choo choo choo make savings with the trainline', watch and you'll see). An awkward dinner party ensued in episode two that was difficult to watch, but shit looks set to hit the fan in tonight's episode when Funda wants to talk to Caggie. I can't wait.

The other relationship dilemma is Ollie and his 'girlfriend' Gabriella. The fact he was going out with a girl shocked me enough but to see how besotted she is with him and how little he cares about her is horrifying, although leads to some frankly hilarious moments. It can only end in tears. He invited his hateful friends Cheska and Binky along on a specifically 'just the two of us, romantic' skiing break and was in a state of shock when he couldn't find his eyelash curlers. When he looks at her he couldn't be any more dead behind the eyes. I can't see the series progressing well for them. He needs to flounce off and make us laugh on his own without hurting her any more. The relationship would just be collateral damage in the quest for amusement.

Fredrik, the model, has just been to Damascus essentially wearing 'nouveau backpacker' fancy dress because he's far more interesting and much cooler than the rest of them of course...He's beginning to date Millie who couldn't be any more different to him. He surprised her on a lunch date by 'making an entrance' - she thought she'd been stood up then realised he was the one playing lounge music on the piano. She then flirted with him overtly, they got in a cab together as he groped her arse but of course she won't be putting out til the seventh date. She told Caggie.

In real life Hugo would be my favourite. He's the only one who actually seems like a decent person, he is far more grounded and level headed than the others and, somewhat coincidentally, the most shaggable. However, for the purposes of viewing enjoyment, Ollie is the overall favourite. I love to hate the disgusting way he treats the besotted girlfriend that he clearly doesn't give a shit about, the way he whips his hair and the pure dismay I feel at everything that comes out of his mouth. And these people are 'real.' 

Favourite moments so far:

• Horse-maned Ollie channelled the inner philosopher and bravely tackled the big question - 'Can you tan through fake tan?'
• I'm pretty sure 'intern' Agne is actually Elena from Peep Show plus a bottle of peroxide. If this is the case (and I plan to investigate it) then she needs to go back to drama school.
• Talking of the 'intern', Francis' face when she swanned in with her Swedish accent and blow job pout was priceless. Pretty sure it wasn't just the acting that was wooden on that occasion.
•  Ollie and his girlfriend decided that they could always just 'share concealer' on their skiing trip. Even the rich are thrifty.
• Spencer acted like a petulant child when he realised he couldn't have two cakes and eat them both. In a MASSIVE coincidence, he 'happened' to turn up at the bar where Hugo was setting Caggie up with an equally posh mate. 
• Francis clearly took a day off when they were taught to row as he made a pigs ear of capsizing on his 'lads' day with Fredrik. Maybe that's why Caggie isn't interested in him. 

I'm genuinely excited for tonight's episode and the rest of the series although I fear the end will come along far too quickly. The sheer insanity and hilarity of these people is the perfect love/hate TV, especially for those of us who are jobless and penniless, in need of something  to make us feel better about our lives.

Ollie was so worried people would notice he hadn't curled his eyelashes that he chose a suitably elaborate prop to distract us. I salute you. Darling.

*note - Come Dine With Me doesn't count. It's fantastic and not in the same realm as 'reality' TV. Neither does Big Break.

‘I think I’m Mr Leap Year’

A chance meeting in Bumper led to me spending an afternoon on the set of Hollyoaks with actor Tony Hirst, affectionately known in my household at least, as Mike ‘not bad for a Dad’ Barnes. This interview was published in The Looprevil Press in 2009.

I had a full tour of the set, bumping into more characters than I can count before settling down in the Barnes family living room for an interview. Decorated in the shabby chic of depressing Christmas cheer that only soap operas can manage talk ranged from the soap itself, to Bob Dylan to topless calendars.

I had to unleash the inner Hollyoaks fan a bit so needed to know the answers to a few questions. Following the death of his fictional daughter Sarah, my flatmate and I had been perturbed as to why the policeman broke the news of her death to Mike on his doorstep in a silent, very Hollyoaks, montage – surely he’d take him inside for a nice cup of tea and a sit down?

There’s a funny story about that. He was an extra, lovely guy. There was no dialogue in it but the director could see lip sync in the shot so he had to say something. So we came to do it, I  was behind the door, obviously you knew it was going to be an emotional moment, but you also had to play the surprise of it. I could hear him walking up to the door and he knocks on the door, I open it and he said (adopts comically deep,northern monotone voice) ‘Mr Barnes, your daughter is dead.’  It was so funny. I said to the director ‘does he have to speak?’ he said ‘yes he does but don’t worry I’ll have a word with him, make him be a bit more ... compassionate.’ We roll up to do it again, he knocks on the door, I open the door – ‘Mr Barnes, I’m afraid your daughter is dead’ –  hahaha it’s fucking great! If you watch the scene again it’s just me trying so hard not to laugh.

I just thought he would have been better taking him inside, so talk turned to what soaps really stand for, how unrealistic these ‘real life’ dramas actually are –

Sometimes that’s a real frustration but other times it’s a real liberating thing that you can, not have fun, but ease traumatic situations. It’s a soap opera, it is what it is, you know. It’s not a negative thing a lot of the time, it’s, I think it’s fun. I love the good things about soap. There are a lot of bad things I hate about it but that’s not just exclusively about soap. I think there’s a tendency to assume that your audience is stupid. I don’t think they are. Hollyoaks is very unique in that it’s got a really big demographic. It’s got a lot of young kids, really young kids who watch it, obviously a lot of students but then a lot of older, thirty-somethings who watch it. The people who come up to me on the street, more often than not, are the older punters. It’s like my little niece when she was seven or eight she’s be watching the Simpsons just before Hollyoaks – one of the most sophisticated pieces of writing on any television and she gets the Simpsons so she’s going to get Hollyoaks down to a tee, and she does. I’ve been here four years and the show has got so much better– not any coincidence! But I think the script writing has got a lot better and the story telling has got a lot better, At times, and this isn’t exclusive toHollyoaks at all, they do that that thing where they just talk down to the audience, or they panda to that casual idea that they have to explain everything.

The cast and crew of Hollyoaks shoot Monday to Friday and occasionally weekends, the days are long and there are three or four weeks worth of filming being done and once, up to six weeks in advance of showing –

It’s just really strange, coming in every day and playing the same character every day is really odd. Good, great fun, but from an acting job kind of thing it’s strange, I’d never done a soap opera before. You might do a theatre job for a few months and get used to playing that character but never just day in, day out, it’s really odd. Bit like a sausage factory at times. I think it would be very easy to just turn up and become really nonchalant but I enjoy keeping it fresh, keeping myself fresh and on my toes, it’s exciting.

I asked Tony why he hadn’t featured in the infamous Hollyoaks Hunks calendar –

Haha I haven’t been asked yet, I think I’m Mr Leap Year!

I wondered what the perks of being a soap star were and whether he had taken advantage of any of them –

We get a lot of free stuff from companies like clothes and games but it’s stupid, we can afford them if we want them, they should be giving the games to kids that can’t. Although I did use it once when I wanted Bob Dylan tickets for me and my two kids at The Echo this year, so I managed to get them! I thought as well that Dylan in Liverpool would be good because there would be a kind of warmth. When he sang George Harrison’s Somethingeveryone was just singing along, it was just great. I think if I had seen him in London then you’d have had that cynical Southern, corporate attitude. I mean, I’ve lived in London for twenty years and I adore it as a city but there’s that kind of reserved, slightly cold ‘entertain me’ idea but I think he genuinely responded to the warmth of Liverpool. So that was the only time I’ve ever used any sort of Hollyoaks influence, but Hollyoaks and Bob Dylan are very, very far apart! 

A conversation about music ensued and we came on to the topic of Hollyoaks’ most recent venture – their music show and the annual X Factor debate.

They don’t ask me anyway, but again this is another frustration. I think they think because you’re over about 28 that suddenly you haven’t got a clue about music, it’s like for fuck’s sake, did The Clash never happen? So, you just kind of get sidelined on that. I don’t want to get involved in it anyway. I do think there’s a great deal of skill on The X Factor. My opinion is though that it should always come from a point of soul and a point of truth and a point of need and if you’ve got that need and you’ve got something to say you’ll find a way. I just don’t like the corporate shaping and ownership of music. It should be about rock ‘n roll and anarchy and voice. It’s that cult of celebrity – when people meet you and recognise you it’s lovely because they see you in their living rooms every day, but when they elevate you, or you see other celebrities elevating themselves over people, it’s bullshit. It’s like punk never happened, I pull me hair out over it sometimes.

Whilst on the lines of ‘celebrities’ and reality TV I couldn’t help but bring up fellow Hollyoaks cast member Ricky Whittle’s performance on Strictly Come Dancing:

I haven’t actually watched it but Ricky is an absolutely lovely bloke and he’s got some moves. I taught him everything he knows. I’m just really pleased that he paid attention in those night clubs where I showed him my best moves.

So would Tony ever be tempted into the realm of reality TV?

No. Not a chance. Um .. no! A. I’m not that interesting, B. I’ve got too big a gob on me and C. I just wouldn’t –I wouldn’t tune in to see it so why would anyone want to see me? I’d rather keep myself to myself.

We wrapped the interview up there as filming had to continue. We had another scoot round the set, and a peek in the green room before Tony had to go back to his day job and step back into the shoes of Mike Barnes. It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon. I would have loved to pop into The Dog for a quick wine to finish it off, however all illusions were shattered when I realised it was just a set.

Lifestyles of the not so rich and famous

University ends and you think the world is at your feet  'I've got a degree, I can do anything.' In reality all I can currently see at my feet are five empty red wine bottles and an empty packet of cheese and onion crisps. I spend the majority of my days sat in the flat watching god awful TV and applying for countless jobs. The state of limbo between university and employment is so odd.You'd think having all day every day to do what you want would be great, but there's a small issue of cash. No loan left and no job means quite a dull existence as it's virtually impossible to go anywhere and not spend any money. Soon I'll be in our favoured lunch venue The Egg with my two future flatmates going thirds on a cup of tea. Yes, funds are that bad. So as this blog was a poor effort before, with my previous commitment lasting just 4 days, all this free time means starting it up again in order to fill my time and shamelessly promote my desired career. Because that's what happens isn't it? Someone will notice my blog and in no time I'll be working at Vogue. Whilst simultaneously falling in love with the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. Or maybe that was a film I saw once.

FASHION IN THE BOMBED OUT CHURCH

Last year, with the help of some friends I organised a fashion shoot at St Lukes (otherwise known as 'The Bombed Out') Church in Liverpool. Everything was done for free, using our own clothes and props - the only thing we stuck our hands in our pockets for was the 'champagne' (Tesco's cheapest Cava) that we drank afterwards. Here are the fruits of our creative labours. St Lukes is a great location for any artistic work as well as a fantastic place to visit while wandering around Liverpool - always something new going on there thanks to the talented and lovely people at Urban Strawberry Lunch.

Art directors: Rachael Carpenter, Andre Titland

Models: Emily Cheshire, Michael Smith

All photos by Katherine Oliver: 

http://throughmyeyesfrommyheart.blogspot.com/

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It's still not Spring yet

Gossip Girl is back on our TV screens after a few week's break to liven up Wednesday evenings with an impossibly beautiful cast and completely unbelievable storylines. It’s not only about the ‘scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite’ though – fashion is just as important and each episode is essentially a dramatised catwalk. The wardrobe is sent straight from couture heaven and this series is showcasing the most important contemporary high fashion trends (it’s not just the Womenswear that is sublime – see Chuck Bass). What really stood out for me before Christmas were Serena’s cerulean blue cropped trousers. Of course, Blake Lively could wear anything and make it look fabulous, but this colour still seems set to be huge. Everyone who is anyone has been injecting this electric blue into their collection and it’s a great evening alternative to black. I spotted a jumpsuit in the same colour in the upstairs window of Resurrection (Bold Street) – reminiscent of Studio 54 glamour in the most up-to-date colour, it’s definitely what’s missing from my Autumn/Winter/Spring/Summer wardrobe.

Don't let the bit of sun we've seen over that past few days or the gorgeous S/S collections hitting the shops fool you, it's still not Spring yet. Unfortunately. As ever in Liverpool, the main advice is WRAP UP WARM! The Mersey wind never fails to shock with its biting chill. Obviously, never betray fashion for practicality when it’s so easy to have both. The rural look is still massive and looks set to continue. The catwalks are full of luxurious Lady of the Manor looks and every ‘indie’ kid across the country seems to own a wax or quilted jacket. I’ve had Barbours since I was about three, initially for the practical reason of birth location. Water-proof, thorn-proof, hail-proof, EVERYTHING proof, it’s the all-in-one protection that every country dweller needs. But things are changing so get your accessories at the ready. There are so many wax jackets cropping up now that it is easy to buy one without paying the price tag that comes with a real Barbour, but there is a reason behind their phenomenal reputation. Luckily, the brand has recognised its resurgence in popularity and bought in designer Anya Hindmarch to design some signature pieces in a collection that will have you looking much more Kim Tate than Adge Cutler.

Vintage still, predictably, remains massive and with Lily Allen and her half sister Sarah Owen launching a vintage store in Covent Garden last year, it’s getting even more press. I won’t deny that I’m not itching to go down there. With designers from Ossie Clark to Lanvin, just window shopping would suffice. There’s a renting service for just 20% of the retail price so maybe, just maybe I could live out my YSL dream for a night...To quote the scathing ‘realism’ of Gossip Girl’s Blair Waldorf ‘It doesn’t matter if the dress is couture if the girl is off the rack.’ Best stick to Primark for now then, eh? 

XOXO

Oh My God! What if someone died in those clothes?

Moth-eaten and musty or a wardrobe must-have? Either way, the ‘vintage’ trend has prevailed over the past few years. Notoriously hard to define, I often wonder what is vintage? 

Can I go into a charity shop, buy a jumper that belonged to someone older than my grandmother and call it vintage chic? When does it stop being second hand and start becoming the height of fashion? If, when complimenting someone’s clothing you’re met with the answer ‘Oh, thanks – it’s second hand’ you may well get put off, but if they tell you it’s vintage you’d probably think it’s cool, yet essentially it means exactly the same thing. If I'm honest, I’m pretty glad of this current trend as I have personally always had a retrospective look on fashion, particularly having some sort of life-long obsession with the 1960’s. I’m not too sure where this love started – predominantly playing in my Mum’s vast wardrobe as a bored child and my youthful love of itv’s Heartbeat which I favoured over kid’s shows because I‘liked the clothes and the music.’  I do believe that Nick Berry was my first crush too, but we all have regrets. I remember spending hours after school when I was terribly young in Mum’s wardrobe attempting to make myself look like Dusty Springfield or ‘Gina out of Heartbeat’, so imagine my joy when the trend really took off – just about the time when the clothes started fitting me, conveniently.

I remember shopping in charity shops quite a few years ago for woolly jumpers, dresses and gold jewellery but I was met with cries from some of my friends of ‘Oh my God that’s horrible, what if someone died in those clothes?’ There was such a stigma attached, yet now they all shop 'vintage' and it’s suddenly fine to get exactly the same items from a speciality vintage store. It seems that the idea of wearing second hand fashionably, or looking ‘vintage’ started in the mid 1990’s with the emergence of Brit-pop bands and people like Jarvis Cocker famously wearing clothes from car boot sales – he is once quoted as saying that his favourite pair of trousers during Pulp’s fame he actually got from a skip. Yet, it is only over the past few years really that the idea has really taken off on the high streets, sparking a national craze. Of course, at the high end of the market, vintage is big business and always has been, due to the tremendous value of stand-out designers and  couture pieces, but the items within an average budget are fundamentally second hand, we just feel better calling them vintage.

It’s the musty attic, smoky smell of the clothes that’s one of the things I love about it. Naturally, always wash before wearing – it’s hardly as attractive as a signature scent after all, but it’s exciting, to me anyway, that behind every piece there is some sort of story. I have been known on more than one occasion to dream up some tale of heady 1970’s bohemia and imagine the person, or people, who have owned the item before me. I like to think that the clothes have had a life; it makes them more interesting and unique.

Think of any decade of the 20^th century and you can conjure up a typical image, or various images that defined the fashions, with quite regimental time boundaries. Whether our images are fully accurate as we have not lived in them is irrelevant, it’s the very fact that we can do it that says so much. At the moment, we’re not  pinned down to one new look or identity and are always looking back in time for inspiration, as opposed to in the twentieth century when fashion was predominantly about looking forward, finding something new. We've just reached the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century yet I can think of barely any new fashion ideas that will define our high street in years to come. Look at people on the street today and you will see an eclectic mix of various pasts – indie boys looking like Mods wearing Ben Sherman, Fred Perry and overcoats or going all 1950’s with waistcoats, skinny ties and tailored pieces, girls in pearls and 1980’s jumpers, slogan t-shirts or the high-waisted 1940’s silhouette, the list goes on. It’s brilliant of course, because I adore vintage and have always been fascinated by past fashions, but it just means that we don’t have much of a legacy to leave future generations (New Rave? No.) Whether actually vintage or an inspired piece with a fresh take, we haven't had huge amounts of innovation in the high street. Please note I am talking about the high street and not high end, dismissing McQueen and co would be blasphemy. 

With so many gorgeous vintage and second hand stores in Liverpool as well as some incredibly good charity shops, it is a shame to fall victim to the glitzy window displays every time you shop. Try second hand once in a while. It will save money, look unique and support local businesses or charities. Team it with high street pieces to give it a fresh look and you can guarantee that nobody will be wearing the same.Simultaneously retrospective and contemporary, vintage is most definitely the way forward.

BEDLAM

News of my 'blog' is hitting facebook hard. It needs to be a bit more pretentious so I give you my thoughts on one of Sky Living's numerous new dramas BEDLAM.

Starring Will Young, which makes me feel weird immediately. 'Oh, he's such a lovely man' and all that, but he is little more than a cardboard cut-out of himself, and I say that begrudgingly because his face is so kind. It's not just Young who's acting is quite dire though, in fact most of the cast could do with going back to RADA for a bit. It's essentially full of beautiful people plus Hugo Speer, with all the female leads being stick thin with razor abs. Size 10s need not apply. Then there's Jed, he's the one that can see ghosts and how they died (yes you read that right). He too is very attractive but wholly unbelievable. I'm all for the supernatural but the whole concept of this is so odd and a bit predictable. Plus if the first two episodes are anything to go by then the storyline will be the same every week except a different ghost will try and kill a different person. Jed will then save the day, get rid of the ghost and the audience will learn something about morality. For instance if you kill two small children in a hit and run, if you don't hand yourself in a ghost of an unrelated man who died in the asylum in the 1960s will kill your cat then try to kill you. He will only rest in peace when you call the police. Dawn from Eastenders learnt that the hard way.

The show is set in the luxury apartment complex 'Bedlam Heights', a renovated asylum which was closed down decades before due to 'bad practice'. Therefore the souls of the dead patients are looking for revenge on those living in these new flats. Why anyone would move into 'Bedlam' anyway is beyond me, so take some dramatic license with a pinch of salt. Kate and her Dad own these apartments: she is the show bitch that every viewer I assume hates, mainly because I do. Her Dad, played by Hugo Speer is the character we know least about. Suspicions are arising however that he has something to do with the disappearance of an annoying girl we saw for about two seconds in episode one - cue eerie music, a short temper and a furrowed brow.

It's a show that I find myself wanting to watch more of despite being utterly baffled by it and not even liking it that much. There are bits that freak you out and make you jump but on the whole it is unbelievable and almost laughable. I have an urge to watch the entire series though; I'm committed and suitably intrigued now.

Here's the trailer, it makes it look better than it actually is so I hope it's going to get better at some point.

So, I have a blog.

I've been meaning to write a blog for a while, but a suitable starting point has always been the prevailing issue. Was my life interesting enough to write about? Who would read it? I can barely get to grips with the new facebook when they change it EVERY MONTH so all the technicalities of blogs loomed over the conception of my own one with as much pressure as the idea of graduation is looming over my life. But I'm here now. It's reading week and I am giving myself a day off so I've bitten the bullet.

It's Tuesday 15th February, the day after the most overrated and depressing day of the year. Some (my Dad) say it's jealousy why I'm so anti V-day (this year's card count: 0) but anyone with a brain, thankfully almost everyone I know, can see how ridiculous it is. I won't even go into details because everyone knows the score. Hallmark, capitalism, overpriced, commercial, blah blah blah. I was talking to a girl in my year who was being taken to Paris by her boyfriend for the weekend (yawn, so unimaginative) and we discussed the idea of a marriage proposal atop the Eiffel Tower. I concluded this idea by saying that if someone proposed to me in such a position I'd push him off. If he didn't know me better than that then the marriage would be very short lived anyway. I just have no idea why people have to lose a few brain cells when it comes to being in love. I could discuss my intense frustration at brother's brain being liquidised since his wife having their first baby but that's too long a story. It basically involves him calling me 'Auntie Rachael' even when the baby is not around. I constantly have to tell him I'm his SISTER but it never seems to register.

I don't want this blog to be a Bridget Jones' Diary moan-fest about being single so that's enough of that. But Mark Darcy, if you're reading this I'm free every night this week. <3

I did however give myself a Valentines Day treat by googling pictures of Paul Newman, James Dean, Marlon Brando and Steve McQueen, who are guaranteed to brighten up any day. They're for life, not just for Valentines. As a special treat for the zero people who currently read this, here is Mr Newman in fine form. You can't appreciate how deliciously blue his eyes are but alas, just enjoy.

One of my favourite men ever to have lived, they just don't make them like that any more.

I've started watching a LOT of TV recently, mainly due to the addition of Sky Atlantic to the box so expect musings on various dramas to come.