Of Spring Shoes

I popped into Marks and Spencer today to buy some tights, after a visit to the doctor to get the results of my second blood test. He confirmed that I have had glandular fever, but although it's nice to have a definite diagnosis, there is no treatment apart from rest, so he simply reiterated the need to take things gently over the Easter holiday. Luckily the weather in Oxford has been absolutely glorious over the past few days, and apparently it is set to remain this way for the rest of the week. I certainly hope so! The warm sunshine and blue skies are so cheering, and today I slipped into this outfit, which remains as good for seeing in the Spring this year as it was last!

When I was in M&S, my eye was drawn to the shoe department (well, if they will arrange the store so I am simply *forced* to walk past the shoes to get to the tights, it would really be rude to avoid paying them proper attention, wouldn't it?). Not least because it was looking particularly eye-catching this afternoon as the new season's stock had obviously just arrived. I have long been a fan of M&S shoes, finding that they tend to produce several tempting pairs each season, all reasonably priced and relatively long-lasting, and as such they are one of my go-to choices for every-day footwear. I didn't actually buy anything today, but I did have to exercise a certain amount of restraint (yes, I am capable of it sometimes ... just don't tell anyone that I might go back again tomorrow...). Three pairs in particular tested my resolve, but I contented myself (for now) with trying them all on and then replacing them carefully on the shelf.

The sudden outburst of sunny weather this week has reminded me that Spring really is just around the corner (I'm particularly looking forward to the clocks going forward this weekend), and I'm feeling a corresponding urge to inject some brightness into my wardrobe. These would certainly do that! The red suede positively popped off the shelf, and would be a marvelous way to add a bit of colourful fizz to any outfit:

(Autograph Suede Peep Toe Platform Shoes, £49)

I was also taken with the somewhat nautical feel of these heels, which look perfect for pairing with something cool and airy for a bit of relaxed chic:

(Peep Toe High Heel Platform Shoes, £25)

Finally, I couldn't resist slipping my toes into these cheeky platforms, which have a lovely 1950's vibe about them. I normally avoid slingbacks, finding that they have a tendency to sling themselves off, but I paraded around the top floor of M&S in fine style in these to take them for a test drive, and they clung to my heels like limpets. So, who knows, perhaps they could even persuade me to give the style another go. The neutral colours mean they would go with so many things, after all, although I also like the naughty little jolts of red on the soles.

(Limited Collection Peep Toe Flower Platform Shoes, £29.50)

I always think it's fun to update one's wardrobe with a new piece or two every season, and shoes are a good way to do so. I might just pop back into M&S tomorrow, anyway, just to *see* whether any of these look as pretty as they do in my memory (and as they do on the ever-tempting website). After all, if I'm going to be putting my feet up over the next few weeks, I might as well put them up in style!

In the meantime, I'm going to slip my feet into something rather less spectacular, and head out into my garden to make the most of the last of today's sunshine. For, as Sir W tells us in his 1601 essay 'Of Solitarinesse and Company',

'the Sun [is] not carrying his Lanthorne for himselfe but for the world'.

Of Dressing Up In The Kitchen

I'm rather behind on my target for Persephone Reading Weekend, as my very busy weekend and return to Oxford means that I've so far only managed to read the first three of Irene Nemirovsky's Dimanche and Other Stories. I'm pleased to say that I'm very much enjoying the collection so far though, so I hope to be able to bring you a review at the end of next week if I keep up with my lunchtime reading! Once I've sorted out some pictures, I'm also really looking forward to telling you all about my first experience of the ROH, as well as my delightful day in Hampstead (and other places, as it turned out...) on Sunday.

In the meantime, I couldn't help but share these breathtakingly elegant aprons (of all things), which are available for pre-order from the ever-wonderful Natural History. Apparently they've been causing quite a commotion in the States, and the canny people at Natural History decided they couldn't let the opportunity to bring them to our shores slip by. Can you blame them? These look like something I'd be quite happy to wander down the street in (although I assume that I might be in need of a little cover up from behind if I were to try that!). They might be a little pricey at £52, but perhaps such beautiful kitchen ware (wear?) is worth it. After all, I'm sure everything I turned my hand to at the oven couldn't help but come out just that little bit more perfect than it already does (ahem) if I adorned myself in one of these...

Rollings of Cinnamon Apron, £52

Morning Bun Moments Apron, £52

Frosty Tin Marshmallows Apron, £52

Even the names are good enough to eat. Although Sir W, in this sentence from his 1601 essay 'Of Virtue', would caution me against placing too much importance on outward appearance, I have to say that there are some moments I just have to pay him no heed!

'Mee thinkes, this same vanity of clothes hath done vertue wrong, for wee discry great men as much by their clothes, as actions, which is very improper'.

Of Tea and Crumpets

I spent most of my life thinking that -- unaccountably for an English person -- I Didn't Like Tea (shock! horror! perhaps it's the Greek blood!), or coffee, for that matter. When I was little, as my mother made one of her own copious cups of tea, I would be offered a little mug of my own, brimming with a steaming, milky beverage. In my mind, this was -- to paraphrase Mark Twain -- nothing more than a good cup of milk spoiled. It was only many years later, once I had discovered the delicate delights of fragrant Jasmine tea, and the dark, smokey pleasures of Lapsang Souchong, that I realized that actually, I did like tea. Just as long as it didn't require milk. I like tea, and I like milk, but separately, thank you very much. I experienced a similar epiphany in my relationship with coffee. As with the tea, everyone assumed that if I couldn't cope with the taste of coffee even when diluted with milk or in coffee-flavoured chocolates (yuck), I certainly wouldn't be able to deal with the unadulterated variety, so for a long time no drop of pure black coffee had ever passed my lips. On holiday in Florence for my 21st birthday, however, my mum persuaded me that I couldn't come to Italy without attempting a sip or two. Spurning her suggestion of an early morning frothy cappuccino to ease myself in, I opted instead for the rich tang of a tiny espresso. I have never looked back. I blame the Italian sunshine for turning my head.

Now that I've discovered that I am a tea drinker after all, I'm always on the look out for pretty and unusual teacups and mugs to liven up my morning (or afternoon ... or evening) tea break. In fact, no doubt my subconscious was willing me to like tea and coffee for years, just to give me yet another excuse for storing up beautiful pieces of crockery in the cupboard, not to mention silver tea-strainers for all those gorgeous packets of loose-leaf teas I just had to buy when I found myself wandering round the ground floor of Fortnum and Mason. I mean, these things always taste better when they're nicely presented...

One of my favourite mugs is the aptly named Sophia Peek-A-Boo mug from the wonderful Crumpet and Skirt, which I told you about last year. The shop's range has expanded from when I last posted about them, with some new lovely ladies gracing their mugs and cards, but Sophia still holds a firm place in my heart. I can't help smiling every time I drain the dregs from my cup and she pops up again at the bottom:

Perhaps this is the reason I've been drawn to a similarly fun-loving range which I found whilst browsing over at LifeStyleBazarre: always a good place to go if you're on the search for beautiful and quirky homewares. I'm now totally smitten with the Blaue Blume range by Tina Tsang of Undergrowth Designs, especially since some of the pieces are in the sale...

Sadly, sale or no sale, I don't think I can quite stretch to the entire range, but it is hard to resist a teacup whose handle is a sexy pair of legs ending in a pair of enticing red shoes. Although even at sale price, I think I'd be the only one to be drinking out of it!

Blaue Blume teacup and saucer, £35 (reduced from £45)

If I wanted more of a centre piece, I could go for this teapot from the same range, whose handle is formed from a pair of delicately crossed legs tipped with shiny gold shoes...

Blaue Blume teapot, £59 (reduced from £79)

... or perhaps this rather magnificently decadent cake stand, which I absolutely loved until I spotted the rather creepy baby's head at the bottom!

Blaue Blume cake stand, £139

Or how about bathing in sugar? Judging from the joyous kick of this lady's legs, it could be rather fun. I don't take sugar in my tea or coffee, but this sugar bath might just persuade me to answer 'yes':

Blaue Blume sugar bath, £44

If lithe legs on display at the table isn't quite your cup of tea, the range also offers some rather more subdued, but still very pretty options, such as this aptly named cake plate, which just needs a nice slice of something yummy to live up to its promise:

Blaue Blume small cake plate, £18

Mmm, I'm hungry already. Any one of these would be a feast to look upon, as well as eat from, for -- to steal a phrase from Sir W's 1601 essay 'Of Conceipt' -- they are

'a very merriment to the eyes'.

Of A Day of Delights

Last week, my mum and I had a trip to London to see Noel Coward's Private Lives, which is currently playing at the Vaudeville Theatre.

Rather than just heading to London in time for curtain up, however, we decided to go down a little earlier to make the most of being in the capital. We started off with a trip to the Victoria and Albert Museum, where we had hoped to see the exhibition of Grace Kelly's clothes which is currently showing there. As it was midway through a Monday afternoon, we hadn't expected it to be that busy, but we were sadly mistaken, and it turned out to be completely sold out for the rest of the day. Luckily the exhibition has only just begun, and there's plenty of time left for me to catch it before it closes on 26th September. I'll just make sure to book next time!

Instead, I went along to another exhibition currently showing at the V&A which I've been wanting to visit: Horace Walpole and Strawberry Hill. I've been interested in Walpole (the son of our first Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole) ever since I read his Gothic fantasy The Castle of Otranto, and he's even cropped up in the course of my research as he owned a manuscript version of a text of Sir W's (The Encomium of Richard III) which I've been working on recently. Walpole was one of the greatest collectors of the eighteenth century, and the exhibition was

filled with fascinating objects and paintings from his Gothic pile Strawberry Hill, such as this cabinet of curiosities:

Photo via the V&A website

Strawberry Hill, which stands on the outskirts of London in Twickenham, is currently being restored, and will be re-opening to the public later this year on Walpole's birthday: 24th September. I for one will definitely be going along to explore it!

After wandering around the atmospheric exhibition, my mum and I went for tea and cakes in the V&A's magnificent cafe, where I marvelled anew at the glittering chandeliers...

... intricately decorated ceilings and pillars ...

... and spectacular fireplaces:

I adored the entrancing combinations of patterns and textures all around me:

Once outside in the courtyard, I found much still to admire, both natural and manmade:

No visit to the V&A would be complete without a visit to their marvellous shop (I probably shouldn't admit this, but for some time my only experience of this fabled museum was the shop and the cafe. Oh, and the rooms devoted to historical fashions). I always love browsing there, and it's a great place to pick up birthday presents. This time, I managed to restrain my shopping impulses, although I did greatly enjoy the beautiful displays:

On the way out, I admired the combination of ancient and modern...

... before we made our way to Soho to enjoy a pre-theatre meal at Quo Vadis, a restaurant which has been recommended to us many times by skirmishofwit and ramblingfancy. I'm certainly very grateful for the suggestion, as my mum and I both had some excellent food there. I had began with a delicious sea bass cerviche

while my mum got to grips with these beauties:

I managed (with some difficulty!) to wangle a taste (in the name of research, of course) and can report that they were absolutely superb, and accompanied by a deliciously rich home-made mayonnaise. For the main course, I went for steak tartare, which I always enjoy. Quo Vadis's take on this French classic was good, and although I generally prefer it when the egg is already mixed in, I can't deny it looked very pretty:

After the meal, we managed to waddle our way outside and catch a cab to the Strand, nicely in time to buy a programme and settle down in our seats. I have never seen Private Lives performed on stage before, although I very much enjoyed a BBC Radio 4 dramatisation of it with Bill Nighy and Helena Bonham-Carter earlier this year. I was, however, in for a real treat at the Vaudeville. Matthew Macfadyen and Kim Cattrall were wonderful as Elyot and Amanda, and Lisa Dillon and Simon Paisley Day provided them with excellent foils as the long-suffering Sybil and Victor.

Photo via the Vaudeville Theatre website

The sparks simply flew between Macfadyen and Cattrall: the scene in which the two bickering ex-spouses count down the seconds during an enforced two-minute silence was filled with a bristling, hilarious tension, while the climatic fight scene between the supposedly happily reunited couple at the end of the second act was spectacularly well done. The leads did an excellent job of portraying the love-hate relationship between Amanda and Elyot, while the looks upon their faces during the spat between Victor and Sybil at the play's end said it all. Caroline Lena Olsson, playing Amanda's French maid in Paris, also displayed some great comic timing -- there was simply not a bad performance in sight.

All in all, a wonderful day, full of several delights. To quote Sir W (in his 1601 essay 'Of Popularitie'), it was one whose

'satisfaction rested as much in the varietie, as in the proffit'.

Of Being Back In Time

Last Thursday, I went back in time. Really. Well, so nearly really that it actually felt like I'd stepped back a few decades, to a time when men wore smart hats over brill-creamed hair and women wouldn't step outside without a pair of gloves and a swipe of lipstick. In other words, I took a trip on a steam train along the Severn Valley Railway. The SVR runs sixteen miles, from Kidderminster in Worcestershire to Bridgnorth in Shropshire, passing through some absolutely stunning countryside along the way. Several years ago, during a camping trip to Norfolk, I went on the Wells and Walsingham Light Railway:

As you can see, it's very cute, but although I remember this baby steam train being a lot of fun, it doesn't have proper carriages, so hardly has the same power to transport one back in time like the SVR, which really made me feel like I was one of The Railway Children. If I'd been wearing red flannel petticoats, believe me, I'd have been tempted to tear them off and start waving them as flags.

Managing to restrain my impulses to follow Jenny Agutter's example and attempt some impromtu sephamore, I sedately followed my mother into the first class carriage (at £3 each way for the upgrade, it was well worth it to have a proper little compartment all to ourselves!) and settled down to enjoy the ride. A red-faced, white-bearded guard came and checked our tickets, offered us a toffee (this never normally happens to me on trains!) and we were off into the beautiful countryside, the rhythmic chug and puff of the train signalling our passage.

The SVR has several station stops between Kidderminster and Bridgnorth, but although some of them sounded tempting, we had decided to travel straight through, so that we could enjoy a leisurely lunch in the Shropshire town, and, as the weather was so good (it was a glorious, warm day with bright blue skies and hardly any clouds), a little stroll around after our meal. Nevertheless, we enjoyed peering out of the carriage at the towns and villages, fields and woods as we passed by...

I also found out what it really means to be smutty, as I wiped the little dabs of flakey soot from my hands after they flew in through the window as I stared out!

Apart from the lovely vistas (sadly I still had no camera, hence the reliance on stock photos from the SVR website), we were also thrilled by the variety of wildlife that was prancing around outside. From partridges to pheasants, lambs to galloping horses, we saw it all. And I mean all. There were even elephants, a couple of rhinos, and a herd of reindeer. I kid thee not. Well, we did pass by the West Midland Safari Park, after all...!

The journey to Bridgnorth took about an hour, but it seemed no time at all before we arrived at the station:

Here, however, it looked like our journey might end, with dreams of lunch and sunlit strolls being catapulted out of our minds thanks to a sudden confrontation with a Rather Large suspension bridge. As some of you might remember, I have a little problem called vertigo, and I could tell at a glance that this bridge and I were not going to be friends. A little fingerpost pointed across the bridge proclaiming 'Bridgnorth Town Centre', and the rest of the train's passengers were trouping merrily across. I, however, cowered against the wall and felt slightly foolish as I wondered whether I would ever manage to join them. From my position against the stones, however, with the quick eye of a vertigo sufferer (it makes you very fast at figuring out alternate routes, or, rather, escape routes!), I had already noticed the line of cars next to the platform. They had definitely not come across the scarily high footbridge, so I knew there must be another way across. I started to feel a bit more hopeful. My optimism was rewarded when my mum returned from a scouting expedition with a charming young porter, who led us towards a nice gentle path out of the little railway carpark and down the hill to the main road below, with no sudden drops or vertiginous bridges in sight. I breathed a sigh of relief, and we set off.

Although we were keen to explore the pretty town, the call of our stomachs was stronger, and our first stop was lunch at a nice little brasserie on the High Street. Suitably replenished, we set off to admire the local sights, such as the Town Hall on stilts...

... and the beautiful church hidden away down a winding little lane:

As we pottered around, my eye was caught (naturally) by a sign for a vintage clothing and accessories shop called The Looking Glass. Venturing inside, we found a veritable treasure trove of vintage and reproduction clothing ranging from the 1920s through to the 1970s, as well as some contemporary hats, gloves, and jewellery. My eye was immediately caught by some stunning reproduction 1920s dresses hanging outside the one little changing room. Long, thin, and black, they were intricately beaded with silver decorations in the most fantastic patterns. Some of the most spectacular designs were influenced by the Art Deco craze for Egyptian style designs that came after the dramatic discoveries of the archaeological expeditions of the 1920s and '30s. The reproduction dresses were beautiful, and had been hand-made in India by families using traditional techniques, and sold under Fair Trade contracts to ensure they were being produced ethically. Mindful of the upcoming white tie New College Ball in June, I tried some on. They were gorgeous, and made me feel as if I'd stepped straight out of a Poirot novel. I was deeply tempted. But which one to choose? Time was ticking by and we needed to be back at the station to catch the steam train back to Kidderminster. I ummed and aahed and tried three dresses on again in a bid to make my mind up (decision making is not always my strongest point). Just as I was considering trying the first dress on for the third time, the lovely lady whose shop it was re-emerged from the back of the shop where she had been rummaging through the rails, clutching a shimmering bundle of taffeta. 'I don't want to confuse you even further', she said, 'but I couldn't resist showing you this one'. I took the dress from her hands and slipped it on. Instantly, I knew it. It was too big, but still, I knew. I had found my dress. I won't describe it now, apart from to say it's an original evening gown from the 1930s, and -- of course -- that I think it's very beautiful. But a proper description (with photos!) will have to wait until the ball itself. I'm not always a great fan of vintage clothes, but I must say that with this dress I'm glad to have my mind changed. I'm ridiculously excited about getting the alterations done and trying it on again, and even more excited about wearing it to the ball itself. And it's fitting, perhaps, that a 1950s steam train should lead me even further back in time to a 1930s dress! I really hadn't had any idea of finding the dress in Bridgnorth, and had actually been planning to slog around the London shops to try to find something. Such unlooked for treasures are always extra-special, and I am at one with Sir W in his 1600 essay 'Of Censuring' when he says that:

'I like them the better because vnexpected'.

Of Kitty Cooper

I think anyone who has cast even a casual glance over my blog will have probably realised that I Like Shoes. A Lot. You can imagine my delight, therefore, when I made a new footwear discovery this morning. Thanks to the treasure trove that is Daily Candy, I have made the acquaintance of Kitty Cooper and her wonderfully glamourous shoes. Kitty Cooper graduated with a first-class degree from the Cordwainer's Institute (part of the London College of Fashion), and has since set up her own business designing stunning shoes which are produced in an eco-friendly way. Now, I don't know about you, but when I think of eco-friendly fashion, my heart always sinks just a little bit, as my imagination conjures up images of tired looking, tie-died t-shirts or dresses made from straw with a belt of chewed up string. Recently, however, I've been forced to think again, not least thanks to Livia Firth's blog for British Vogue recounting her experiences dressing for the red carpet (Livia is the wife of Colin Firth) using only ethically produced, eco-friendly fashion. As you can see from the stunning dress by Orsola de Castro that she wore to the Oscars the other weekend, Livia has shown that one certainly doesn't need to forego style when salving one's conscience:

To be honest, the fact that Kitty Cooper's shoes are produced from recycled materials (such as vintage curtains, buttons, and cottons salvaged from the 1910s through to the 1960s), is -- for me -- merely an added bonus compared to their sheer gorgeousness. Her collection is only fairly small, but some of the designs are available in more than one pattern or colour combination.

These, made from a 1960s cotton, are ridiculously sweet for a summer's day:

Chovey, £245

These just conjure up pictures of garden parties and summer fetes: what could be more fun than matching the strawberries you're about to pop in your mouth with a couple on your toes? Just be careful not to get stuck in the grass with those killer heels:

Ginnie, £269

If you want to make a statement, this shocking pink and green combo would be a good way to go about it...

Nanti, £255

... while if you can cope with the towering heels, the breezy blue of this 1950s pattern would be a refreshing look on a summer's day:

Didicoy, £325

I am more than a little in love with the beautiful floral print on these little stunners...

Luke, £280

... while the naughty nautical style of these makes me think they're something the girls at Crumpet & Skirt would wear...

Rich, £325

... and this amazing pair with their 1910 ribbons would really make sure you stood out from the crowd:

Rose Lee, £319

Sadly, my excitement has been tempered slightly by the rather hefty price tags attached to these beautiful creations, so I think they may have to remain in the lust-after category, rather than filling one of the empty spots in my summer shoe closet. Even if buying them would be helping save the planet (well, ok, not quite). Still, a girl can dream, even if (to quote Sir W in his 1601 essay 'Of Complements) my purse won't quite stretch to

'the lengthning of my joyes, not a foote'.