LAB RAT

Ohayo!

So my days at VIVA Magazine are over. If I stapled together all my bus receipts I could make a full skirt like so:

Reiss. by the way. I probably spent 6 hours of my day commuting. Regardless, I would do it again. I mostly did a lot of research for upcoming projects (the majority of which belonged to the travel and leisure sections of the magazine), and called up companies and gathered information. There was literally one day of filing and no days of getting everyone's coffee. I may also get a chance to take part in their monthly 'Great Debate' section, where a couple women gather to (obviously) discuss a topic. Next month's topic is celebrity related I think. But there's a photoshoot of course, and I may not be around for that. So...here's hoping.

I also got to meet up with some people from Harper's Bazaar Dubai who offered me work experience as well, but I'm not sure when I'll be around again. July brings me to the start of a heavily packed travelling schedule, starting off with China in a couple days.

Anyway, while I was busy swearing at myself for forgetting their 'thank you' card at home, the VIVA team was putting together an expensive and heavy parting gift for (apparently) their longest and most efficient intern.

So I've spent half of my day in the bathroom already, testing out this firming cream, that aqua cream, and smelling like a million bucks, and am about to put on some white nail polish. I have absolutely no use for half this stuff (the avid fan of natural beauty and a good black liner that I am) but it seems by accident the Clinique Repairwear Lift SPF15 has cleared up the damage of some unfortunate spots overnight. The transformation is effing surreal. So...whatever, use it for the wrinkles and lines and the lifting and smoothing, but I just found me my acne medication (someone please tell me why I am now getting acne. My face used to be comparable to a baby's butt cheeks). I also really like the Spa Pedicure Cucumber Heel Therapy. Those babies can become quite dry out here in the desert.

THANKS VIVA!

DIARY OF AN INTERN: SICK...OH WAIT, NO.

I seemed to be coming down with a bad flu which had been spreading around the VIVA office, so I took the day to rest and recuperate. This morning I looked like a scarecrow that had given up its duties, but by early afternoon, under the constant vigilance of my Aunt Judy, I feel quite fine and am shaping up into some sort of Gladiator.

I woke up at 10am to find on my bedside table, a glass of apple juice and a glass of water, both bundled up on a pretty tray close to a handful of vitamin and medication bottles. My aunt would’ve added to the mix her own massive bottle of Seven Seas Cod Liver Oil Multi-vitamin capsules, but I made sure to put out my own mini bottle upon arriving to keep her happy. After downing all of that, I took a shower and sat working my way through my emails.

“Miss Kara!” she bellowed next to my left ear. Everytime she talks to me, I am snapped into constant fear that I did something unforgiveable, like leaving the toilet unflushed after delivering a baby of pure muscled waste. “I am going to the gym, then I’m going to run some errands. You better have drank three more glasses of water by the time I get back, and have had something to eat. Did you eat anything yet? What did you eat? And tea doesn’t count.”

With my toes curling and scraping at the immaculate white tile flooring, I decided, “Well…I was about to get up and have a bowl of organic oatmeal porridge?”

“Well, alright. That’s good for now. When I get back I will boil some wholewheat pasta and leave it on the stove for you. Martin and I are going out tonight. Will you be alright? Keep warm and CHILD! You really shouldn’t be having your Commandments on the floor!”

For a minute, my heart stopped. I thought, had I accidently thrown her worn gold-fringed bible on the floor? What the hell was she talking about? I looked around frantically, and saw nothing but my own two dry feet.

“Put some slippers on. You say you’re coming down with the flu and yet you’re walking around on cold floors barefooted. Oh, child…”

My Commandments? I pondered this for a full hour, on the breaks I took between each chapter of the novel I was reading. Where on earth did she get that from? I thought, staring at my toes. Then, I realized I had ten of them…?

I watched as she hauled her tiny self up into her maroon SUV, then sped off. I reluctantly walked down to my aunt and uncle’s kitchen to organize my porridge, wondering if she was crazy enough to check her bin’s contents for ripped up Oatmeal Porridge packets. I poked around to see what I’d be eating while here; jars of preserved fruit, every one of God’s beans, peas, grains, nuts and seeds in their respective Tupperware containers, only every single cereal with Bran in its title, vanilla soymilk, teas in every colour (white, green and now black, brought by me for my mornings) and the honey or raw cane sugar that would go with it. Last night for dinner, 6/8’s of my plate was sautéed vegetables, 1/3 of them I was learning of and tasting for the very first time.

I imagine that since she has no children, that that is why she saddles and straddles my back day in and day out to make sure I am constantly sorted. She has been packing me well-thought-up vegetarian lunches for work which include everything from a zip-locked package containing mug, silver spoon and oatmeal packet, to a teabag and mint supply that I could share with the entire 10 member office team. Just before I got the bus home, I had to reluctantly gobble down half of my packed lunch, guiltily binning the rest, because my father, when dropping me off at the house, had wished Aunt Judy good luck, and had been telling everyone in his circle that I was anorexic. When I got home, she would quiz me on what my stomach held at the end of the day, then suggest, Military style (whatever that means, because I suppose there’s no ‘suggesting’ in the Military) that I add this or that to it before bed.

I can only hope that after lazily flipping through her Essence magazine archive, and 90’s copies of Vogue and InStyle, that I fall asleep before she gets home. That way, I’ll only receive a note in the morning as I rush off for work, instead of a full-on dietary discussion and debate.

As a result, that old Sesame Street song has been stuck in my head.

Am I sad to know it? The Street is great, man...

DIARY OF AN INTERN: DAYS 3 & 4

It's been a really busy week. By the time I got home yesterday and the day before from work, it was quite late and I was quite tired so I have not been posting about my experiences at the Viva office on the exact days. Hence, this bursting weekend post.

Day 3

Okay so Day 3 wasn't particularly exciting. I was told to do extensive research on some articles that could be possible hooks for the features and spreads they planned to produce in the next issue. So basically, I spent the day slurping a take-away Pina Colada from TGIF next door and browsing story-hoarding websites like Digg, Fark, and Pretty Social (a relatively new website where women can 'share and discuss stories from around the web'). For the record, since I love the guy, I found out about the last website from Joe, which means, he made my job at the office even easier. Millefois Merci.


As a result of all that internet research, I stumbled upon my favourite story of the lot: Isolated Tribe Spotted in Brazil. Beautiful. I have a thing for tribes, especially after thoroughly indulging in 'Apocalypto' three times. So great that they're still out there today. It's so fascinating seeing them protect themselves with their bows and arrows from the camera in its helicopter above. Most beautiful thing I've read all week; along with Amy Tan's novel 'Saving Fish From Drowning', which I finished last night, which of course you MUST read, and which is actually quite focused on a Burmese tribe called the Karen tribe.

Anyway, this what I stupidly wore to work that day as I braved the excruciating heat on the way to work. All black.

DAY 4

Apart from the events that happened between 7:30pm and 2am yesterday, I had a great day. Allow me to briefly sum up those unfortunate events before going on about the activities that were internship-related. Finding my way home from a different location other than the usual Viva office (as the photoshoot was elsewhere) resulted in:

me searching for a nearby bus stop which wasn't nearby and had me walking up and down several highways like a prostitute (which some people slowed thinking I was), finding one, figuring out which bus from there would take me to my destination, waiting an hour and a half for a bus to actually even stop for me as they were all packed with workers, finally getting one an hour and a half later, arriving at the bus terminal for the express to Abu Dhabi and finding that there were no more for the evening, calling my dad from a party to tell him I would be spending the night in a nearby bush if he didn't come for me, arranging to meet him just outside the city, getting to the planned location (Dubai Marina) and discovering that the area was so newly constructed that there were no road signs or street names yet, stumbling around in painful shoes looking for a familiar building to stand and wait at, finding out my dad was still an hour away and had no idea where I was, bursting into tears from all the wandering, the crippled feet, the seclusion, the heat, the parched throat, finding a security guard outside a place called La Riviera Towers who said he would talk to my dad, my dad telling me after I was given the phone back that he had no idea what the guy was talking about, my phone beeping saying the battery was low, being fed water and tissues by the guard who allowed me to sit in the blissfully air-conditioned lobby to wait, then standing out on the highway with him to wave at my dad's car as he flew by then turned around and collected me. Yes, we gave him a bloody good tip. I got home at 4am and thanked Allah, God, Buddha and Mother Lakshmi that it was the weekend and I didn't have to get up an hour later for work again.

PHEW! Now the photoshoot! Yes, I went on my first fashion photoshoot (photos posted here) with Viva, which was located at a newly opened club called Alpha, which is part of Le Meridien Hotel Dubai. All clubs and restaurants serving alcohol have to be situated at a hotel in the U.A.E. Alcohol can barely be obtained elsewhere. They don't sell it at supermarkets or anything. So people make a big deal about going for 'booze runs' (which the photographer informed everyone she was going on this weekend) and my dad, as he's a pilot, usually just stocks up when coming through Duty Free.

Anyway, so I helped out the Fashion and Beauty editor Chee, and her assistant Gaby by organizing the clothes, shoes and accessories for the shoot. There was a huge crisis when the steamer refused to work and we had to go ask to borrow an iron and ironing board from the hotel staff. The first one they sent us didn't work, so we had to go back and request another, which took nearly half an hour to come, and tested it out in a nearby outlet in the vast lobby; with the hotel's guests brunching, bozing and smoking eyeing us with amused expressions.

The whole organizing an iron and ironing board ordeal took nearly an hour; the reason being that the immigrant workers who come to this country and apply for jobs barely even know what the job entails or how to do it. They're just grabbing what they can, and fast. Once they are given orders, they follow them mechanically. Anything outside of what they are ordered to do, they know absolutely nothing about. This is also the reason I spent so much time getting more and more lost yesterday evening. Not even the bus drivers knew about the correct buses or directions I should take, around this city they have been working in for quite some time, I imagine. This is also why once when I jumped in a taxi and asked some advice about where a particular building might be on a particular street, the driver (who was hired to drive) barely knew english, could not understand what I wanted him to do and told me 'Cannot showing me where? I'm sorry, no,' opening the door for me to get out.

So what happened when we approached the front desk about the iron TWICE was we were faced with a tiny Indian man, who merely looked at us with bulging eyes, then looked down at the ground racking his brain and muttering 'what to do? what to do?' We could see the doom in his eyes as he thought about impatient Gaby seeking out the manager to complain about him, and him getting fired as a result. Anyway, eventually he talked to someone, and they talked to someone, and so forth, and we received a new iron. All was well.

The photoshoot featured real everyday women with different body types, showing which clothes flattered their body types most. I was the first person to show up at Alpha, then the photographer Candy, next. She was a lanky Australian woman with fried bleached ringlets and thick black glasses.
"Are you the first model today?"
"Oh no, no, no, " I stammered, flattered, staring at her concerning lack of breasts printed through her Karl Lagerfeld tank top. "I'm just the intern. The team's all on their way."

Of all the cool people I met that day, Candy was the most exciting. In fact, I might be harbouring a small girl crush. She had 6 tattooes, blasted Sheryl Crow and Bob Marley songs through her Mac, her butt-crack peek-a-booed over her briefs and baggy surfer jeans when she stooped and crouched and jumped about excitedly to take pictures, and she wasn't at ALL pretty. Actually, when she took off her glasses, she looked the way Carrie Bradshaw might look if she wore absolutely no make-up and hadn't slept in several days. In other words, she wasn't too ugly either. On the breaks in between, she sat reading a book about 'thinking big' while lounging on one of the club's longue chaises. She rolled and smoked copious amounts of brown-papered cigarettes.
"They're licorice flavoured," she told me.

Although we were served an unlimited amount of drinks by one of the bar staff they had provided us with, she asked several times for the only thing they didn't serve; coffee. They diligently trekked up to the hotel to get it for her. And in between tiny porcelain cups of those, she chugged Red Bull, and yet remained pleasantly aware of her surroundings and not maniacally buzzed. I marvelled. She also called me over once and to my surprise (I shouldn't have been surprised. She was satisfyingly crazy), she asked me to help her pick out a model of Jeep Wrangler on her laptop. She was thinking of buying a new car this week. We chose this.

The make-up artist was also quite talented, and the only one who scarfed down as much of the meditarranean food that I ordered for everyone as me. We chatted quite a lot. She gave some of the staff, who were going out afterwards, a new face for the evening. Chee, the fashion director, asked the Plus Size girl they used for the shoot to bring along 6 gift bags to thank all the models for taking part, as she worked at some cosmetics department or other. But the girl brought too many bags, so Chee handed me one. So happy was I for this bag containing the latest DKNY mini roll-on perfume, DKNY shower gel, a mini London Fashion Week make-up set and Sean John's latest fragrance for women called Unforgiveable. I'm usually quite picky with scents, but everything in there smelt FANTASTIC! And they were no longer mine anyway. I knew exactly what I had to do. I presented the pretty gift bag reading 'Unforgiveable' to my mother this morning, asking her to forgive me for forgetting her birthday, which was a few weeks ago. She left the house a few minutes ago, the roll-on perfume tucked neatly into her clutch bag.

DIARY OF AN INTERN: DAY 2

Well, I wasn't as late as last time. Just 20 minutes. Making progress. Got off early today because of a power cut and am going in an hour and half later tomorrow morning because the rest of the team have something to attend to. Can I get a 'WOHOO!' for an hour's worth more of beauty sleep? I bought myself a scoop of mint chocolate chip for that small miracle.

May I just profess my love for tea? ESPECIALLY Vanilla Black Tea? Great smell, great taste, bigger shock to my system than coffee (and without even realising it too, what with all the heavy heart-beating I get from Starbucks), and good for slimming. 4 out of 4. I never noticed until now how bright and in tune with the world I am when under the influence. Good stuff. Think I might take a couple tea bags to work with me next time. And a box of Pop Pan Spring Onion Crackers! Pure, innocent indulgence. I've also become quite prone to snacking on almonds, and of course, as any desert going working gal should, copious amounts of water.

They say the sun, ram-packed with all its vitamin D is supposed to make you feel naturally energized, but in the desert, I beg to differ. It just drains me. 5 minutes walking to the bank a couple of buildings away and I want to bury myself alive in a sand pile. The next thing I will be investing in, sadly, won't be:

[Topshop]

OR...

[Warehouse]

but rather a parasol and some major SPF something! It saddens me that I am officially 'The Baked One' at the office, while everyone else remains happily reddened in all the right places, with their rouged lips and cheeks. HMPH!

Anyway, I spent all of 5 and a half hours compiling an extensive calendar for the team to follow in upcoming months if ever searching for inspiration for a feature or photoshoot etc. I scoured the internet for music and film festivals, movie premieres, trade shows, fairs, galas, award ceremonies, cultural events across the globe, worldly observances, celebrations and more. I was surprised at how long it took to do that, and found myself at it all day. And I still never got to finishing by 4pm because of the power outage.

When electricity said its rude goodbye, and the girl in charge of a photoshoot going on at precisely that moment came back in grumbling and scowling about the studio's pitch black nothingness, we huddled in our corner enjoying the swivel of our swivelly chairs, and did a Post Mortem of the latest issue (June) which came out 2 days ago (Yeah, things run differently here). In case you didn't catch on, a Post Mortem is a review of the publication by the staff. I must say, they all had keen eyes, especially I, once I discovered that one of the pictures labelled 'Lindsay Lohan' did, in fact, look like her, but ABSOLUTELY WASN'T! And that made me realise two things; that I am a Pop Culture harlot, and that I would be a fabulous editor. Spelling Bee champion three times in a row, photographic memory, annoying as fuck conversationalist as I itchily interrupt my friend's every verbal wrong-doing, my sole problem in Creative Writing being that I can't keep my editing self out of the free writing process because scrappiness is UNCOOL! Yeah. It was really great to see that while I quietly shadowed the team, they were voicing my stifled opinions. They and I were thinking and scrutinizing alike.

The team at Viva really knows how to put together a comfy read of a magazine. I'm pleased with the June issue, especially because the black pouffy top with ruffles down the breast that I chose to wear today was emblazoned across one of its pages. GOOD CALL! Even if the Editor in Chief (who failed to notice) was wearing jeans. To my annoyance, the VIVA team tend to leave me standing alone and have completely ditched the officewear look in exchange for that of a day at the beach, wearing things like Bermuda shorts, thong sandals, halter tops, and over-the-bikini floral dresses. If I weren't so traditional, and hadn't spent money purchasing officewear specifically for this internship, then I would've said 'Fuck it' and rocked some tight ass skinny jeans, hot pink flip flops and a fierce t-shirt. *sigh* You can never win.

TTFN,
The Lonely Londoner

P.S. I had a picture or two for you of What I wore today on my camera but for some reason when I plug my camera into the computer today it's not registering it and I can't find it anywhere. So...maybe I'll add them another time. Curfew calls.

DIARY OF AN INTERN: DAY 1

It started at 5am. Not really. My sleep habits have been whack for centuries, it seems, so I was really blinking and tossing in the dark from 3am. Christ. There are approximately 160km between Abu Dhabi and Dubai(my destination, headquarters of Viva Magazine), and so that is the distance I travelled today, and then some.

I jumped on the first running Emirates Express of the morning at 6:20am, bopped to Peter Bjorn and John and the likes during the 2 hour bus-ride, while everyone else slumbered. This really surprised me because of my usual need to sleep through 5/8's of my day, everyday, without fail. Well, today, that wasn't happening for a second. Here I am at 10pm writing this out with renewed fervour.

With my usual sleeping habits in mind, the original plan was to refuel several times per day on Red Bull, like a gas guzzling SUV. But I was too late to browse the bus station's mini mart before we set off, so the cup of Vanilla Black Tea was all I had in my system on the way to Dubai; and it worked wonders for my consciousness. I stress. Here I am. Still. I mean, I remembered from the two tourist trap coffee plantation tours I did in Costa Rica that tea has more caffeine than soda and coffee, but I didn't expect to turn my back on energy drinks and Starbucks after one day!

Anyway, when we got to a place called Al Karama, I jumped off, head turning every which way in search of my next bus, although thighs quaking from my rupturing bladder as well(and here my problem lies. I am one of those folks who needs to go to the bathroom half an hour after drinking half a cup of anything. Worst habit for someone lost in the scalding delapidated and dirty backroads of a foreign country, where every shop-keeper either doesn't know what 'washroom/bathroom/toilet' means or is shocked at the audacity of a woman to approach Arab men in such a crazily candid manner about her bladder. 'Bloody Westerners...').

Look. It was serious. And the clock was ticking. Still hadn't found the correct bus stop, still hadn't relieved myself, still waddled around wearing head to toe black under a full-on desert sun (how do they do it? And covered even more so?). Finally, a shady Lebanese restaurant with a friendly man (and the type who wasn't over-friendly in that sleazy Arab way. No offense.) I spent a fortune of my time left to get to the office in that bathroom, not only enjoying a lighter pelvic area, but also tidying up, prettying up and deciding whether to give this man some money for his kindness because I wasn't about to buy his very un-delectable items behind their glass casings. I decided, even though the bathroom was putrid and leaked (but had soap and toilet paper, thank Allah) that I would give him some change. He was absolutely shocked and said 'no no no, ma'am. You go. No need.' Great. I must've said 'Shukran' five times, even as I was out the door.

At the correct bus stop now, I discovered the small perks of being a female member of an Emirati society. In the distance, about 12 of us watched with furrowed sweating brows as the 44 bus rippled its way towards us in all the unseen heat devouring us. When it squeaked to a stop and hummed two cars away in light traffic, there was jostling. We had been melting a full 30 minutes for this bus. So definitely jostling, or else wait an hour for the next and faint. An indian man offered me his sweaty armpits as he tried to stink his way to the front. Screeeech. Hissssss. Bus. Doors swing open, threatening to flatten any outstretched limb, and the driver eyeballs us in our imaginary sidewalk sardine tin.

"Get back! Ladies first!" If only the rest of the world worked this way with their queues, OH what blissful lives women could lead. I guess it's to make up for all the other stories we hear about women out here (oops! foul mouth). There were also stickers on the windows of the first 5 rows or so that read 'Reserved For Ladies Only', then plexiglass, then several more rows of men with their heads out in the aisle. Needless to say, once the women jostled past, hiding smirks, tucking their colourful sari fabrics and bejeweled black burka skirts under their happy bums, half the men waiting to get on outside were given the cold shoulder (or bus door, I should say).
"No more room. SORRY!" chuckled the bus driver, revving up and speeding off. A few stops away, he was a little more generous, letting a few newcomers stand in the aisle.

"Ganda! Ganda! Ganda!" he shouted, gesturing for them to squeeze themselves, and their many scents, back to the men's section.

Two Filipina women at the front giggled into their Chinese fans.
"Hehe, Ganda. Beautiful." ('ganda' means beautiful in tagalog)

That kind of chaotic cosmopolitan togetherness really gets me all the time. I smiled with them.

Anyway, I got to the office at 9:45am, 45 minutes too late; not that anyone noticed because Claire Turrell, Editor in Chief of Viva Magazine, and my main source of correspondance, was not in today, had been sick for roughly a week now and hadn'f informed anyone of my arrival.

"We thought you were coming in May!"
"Yes, well, that was the original plan. But I got stuck in London doing this and that and arranged for June instead with Claire. So...here I am?"
"Well, we haven't actually planned anything. Hmmm...what can we give you to do?"

Not much. The June issue of Viva came out today, meaning a slow office day was expected until things started heating up later on in the month to get July's sassed up and sorted. All I did was call up a few companies to query the prices of some of their beauty products, conspire some letters to the editor on the last issue, seeing as not many readers felt the need to comment on Kate Hudson being on the cover or how much they enjoyed or abhorred so and so article on so and so page. "Dear Viva, it was SUCH a pleasure to read up on the debate on whether women should take back a cheating lover. I was surprised to find that some women out there still have that level of perseverance, patience and pathetic-ness to give the lying bastard wanker a second chance. I for one..." Yes.

And then I was set up with a temporary log in account in which I typed up such letters, as well as a list of past 'Careers' Features in their archives for the new writer so she could make sure she wasn't regurgitating anything recently written. Then much banter, gasps and sighs about the tragedy of the 'Sex and the City' movie not gracing our shores, and explaining to the new writer/resident that single women who got pregnant in the Gulf are immediately deported, and what each of us would do in such a situation. Half the team agreed that they would get hitched with the sole male member of Viva staff.

Then, for about 3 hours, while licking the side of my lip to re-confirm that there was no leftover hummus from lunch lying there, and twirling my office chair while reading some Amy Tan, one of the girls turned to me and said I should probably just leave early today and start full-force tomorrow. So 'tis the plan. And now that I'm waking at ungodly hours, working 9-6, braving scorching weather conditions in fashionable office garb while getting glamorously lost in an ever-growing, ever-ambitious city, and travelling roughly 6 hours a day, I have a curfew. And that would be now. So, 'til Day 2, Salaam!

CLEAR DE WAY!

FWTT? Uhhh yes. My hometown Trinidad and Tobago launched its first ever annual Fashion Week a couple days ago (26th-31st May). I am still anxiously awaiting pictures from the event to share with you, so hold tight. I only found out about it because my friend just put up a shaky album on Facebook. So above is one of the few distinct shots she managed to get.

“Trinidad & Tobago has so much to offer outside of sun, sand and sea. It is our fashion, culture, music, and food that make us who we are. Our hope is that the established and up and coming fashion designers participating in this show will attract buyers and fashion media from around the world and generate buzz in the industry,” says Jason Baptiste, TDC marketing manager.

-Caribbean Net News

The other models are draped in the same ole same ole kaftan-esque/glamourous beachwear junk I have been seeing on Trinidadian catwalks from day one of my youth. I am looking for something a little more promising this year as I imagine they would take it up a notch for their debut Fashion Week. And I imagine my friend's pictures are only from one show so...my fingers are still crossed, and crossed so tight they're chafing. So I'll get back to you as soon as possible!

Meanwhile, in a fashion industry on the other side of the world...

VIVA MAGAZINE INTERNSHIP STARTS IN 2 DAYS! Not posting much today as I have been out since 7am getting lost in Dubai with a Filipina woman who was extremely late for a secretarial interview...which, when we later met up again (lost) and jumped on the same bus home, she told me she got the job. GOOD FOR HER! I, however, got nothing done in the space of 8 hours spent in the city, jumping on and off buses, making calls, asking directions, blistering my feet, nearly fainting from the heat and starving to save money to get home. So I STILL don't know how to get to the Viva Magazine office for my internship which starts Sunday (yes, Monday is Sunday in the U.A.E. and Thursday is Friday. Clear?) Anyway, so all in all, to ASSUME, is to make an ASS out of U and ME. And that is what I did. Will procrastinate again tomorrow. Ciao for now!

P.S. If you ever come to the U.A.E. for work, make sure you have a license and can rent a car, or buy one. The transportation system sucks! It's like a melee of hitch-hiking and Sunday morning fish markets.

GREAT, JUST GREAT

Found this link today on bookofjoe that certainly hasn't motivated me to anticipate my summer of magazine internship office wear: heels, pencil skirts, leggings, A.K.A. bodily entrapments and dangers. MOST IMPORTANTLY HEELS! Usually, when it comes to wearing something 'up-a-notch', I tend to take the safer fashion route; flats. I mean, I have heels and boots, but I am eternally grateful for a flats comeback...when it came back. Take a look.

THAT GIRL HIT HER HEAD ON THE RUNWAY!

BECAUSE I GOT CALLED "ELECTRIC YELLOW" TODAY

I had a job interview and chose to wear this. One of those fund-raiser kids with the clipboards who ask for your credit card details called me "Electric Yellow" TWICE while coming in and out of Liverpool Street Station where my interview was. It was for a bartending position at a cosy champagne and wine bar called City Limits. It was such a sad affair, really, how it went.

He loved me, instantly, from wanting to warm my frozen hand, which he vigorously shook, to talking to me about his olden days of singles and doubles championships (sparked by the assistant tennis coach position printed on my CV). Anyway, we were down to setting up my actual shifts and organizing how my first day(Sunday) would go when he decided to ask me what my plans were for summer. And it all went downhill from there. All I said was I had applied for a couple magazine internships, but that nothing was certain yet (which was a lie).

But I heard it in his voice and saw it in his all-of-a-sudden shifty eyes, that he wanted someone who would be around forever; whose passion in life was sitting at his stiff elbow and serving Pinot Grigio to elderly chaps. He said I was now shortlisted and they would give me a call if anything. Yeah. Everyone knows what that means...

I sighed and headed back home via the station to unwillingly confront my fund-raiser friend. And there he was.

HIM: ELECTRIC YELLOW!

ME: Look, I just had a bad interview okay? Plus, you asked me already.

HIM: Aww really? What was it for?

ME: A bar job.

HIM: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. That's a lovely accent. Where are you from?

ME: Trinidad. Look, hun, I know what you're gonna ask me. They ALL ask me. And the answer is, I'm seventeen and I have no money. Sorry, okay?

HIM: WOW! Seventeen! Really? Well, alright, you're off the hook I guess.

ME: I know. Well, have a nice day. I gotta go.

HIM: You too! KEEP UP THE BRIGHT SHOES!

I also actually nearly became a paparazzo yesterday. I shit you not. They called me up and everything. But apparently, I didn't have the camera they wanted. Poor camera. He does such a good job, don't you think?

SO...THE JOB HUNT CONTINUES!

THE PASSION OF A THOUSAND PASSION FRUITS!

*Isn't that the loveliest thing you've ever heard? It is my friend Sian's Facebook status update. Sian has the passion of a thousand passion fruits!

* Jiinzu o kaitai. Translation: I want to buy jeans. Actually, I want to buy ANYTHING, because I can't. I am only 2 weeks in with my Lenten shopping ban (40 days). It all ends March 23rd. That's before Spring Break, right? RIGHT?! In case you didn't catch it, that was also your Japanese Phrase of the Day (object + o kaitai = I want to buy (object). Love it or leave it.

* Have you chosen yet? Your book, I mean. You know, for World Book Day. 6th of March. World Book Day traditionally took place on 23 April (Shakespeare's birthday and St George's Day). From 2001 this was changed to the first Thursday in March to avoid clashes with Easter holidays and allow schools to take part. If you haven't yet chosen, and can't choose, I found this really cool website that challenges to find the right book for you. Check it out. There are actual metres where you can click on the level of funny/sad, safe/disturbing, easy/demanding, short/long, you would like in your book.

I've actually chosen to read lots of Hanif Kureishi, as he is my author of choice at the mo, so I ordered, and just received, two of his books 'Midnight All Day' and 'Love in a Blue Time' from Amazon; which is also great because I've chosen to do my Editorial Analysis Essay on his story Four Blue Chairs. I STRESS, READ IT! Or, find your own book on that link up there. What will you be reading? SEND ME COMMENTS! I like.

* ITEM OF THE DAY (Yes, I'm doing everything on one ridiculously long post, because I can, and I really hated being absent but I was fulfilling my yogi duties).

These, I found bookmarked on my laptop from maybe a year ago; the GeeWaWa Hip distressed leather boots in silver. Order them from zappos now for the reduced price of $178 (was $223.95). Smitten.

* BJORK IN APRIL! Are you going? You are?! Oh, fab! Get me tickets. Let's go together. It's just a 72 bus ride away from my flat, in Hammersmith. What is so funny about my Lenten shopping ban, is that I can't tell whether or not I can buy these tickets for a show in April, LONG AFTER my ban has been lifted. You understand the urgency of buying concert tickets months beforehand, right? So, would that be cheating?

* BIG UP TO MY TRINI SALLY! My girl is now officially blogging on her intern escapades at Teen Vogue. Aint she cute? She doesn't like the picture, but we should all let her know how adorable we think she is.P.S. WOW! I just saw that Jazzi is 18. Totally hasn't registered, and never will. She is at least 22 to me.

* Yesterday, my wee little Sony Vaio TR3A Series Notebook nearly died. If you don't know what it's like to have an electronic friend's life flash before your very eyes, I want everyone reading this to take a moment and JUST THINK about what your life would be like if we were still in a world where we had to put pen to paper and shell out 3,000 word literary essays, could not read or write cool blogs like this, or communicate with the world at large by picking at a keyboard. Yes, we are all considerably lazier because of it, but can we really live without computers? Do you know how valuable Skype is to an International student? *Sigh* That really shook me.

* I'm a Neo Polyvorist, by the way. Did you know? If you missed out on my Greenery set, which you shouldn't have, because it's the post right under this one, then, as soon as the bloody website is done with its conveniently scheduled maintenance at this hour, I will post another set I did one 6AM on things my future NYC loft will be wearing. I hope my future husband is a blog reader.

* Diesel likes quirky cool advertising. The last set of ads they did were 'Global Warming Ready'. Now there are these interesting Live Fast ones. You know that phrase "Live Fast, Die Young"? Well, I think this is sort of a secret gesture/message to us. Diesel scares me. They like telling us we're going to die soon. And that last ad reminds me of the ever-lovely and all stitched up Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas; also a very gloomy subject (but at least it's in a fun way.)

* You know that Mika song 'Big Girl'(You Are Beautiful)? And how they had that great video shoot in London with all those curvaceous beautiful women (who weren't really all that big, a mon avie) dancing around him in fabulous shiny get-ups? Well, I started making small talk with my new co-workers at the bikram yoga centre, and, my new friend there, from Canada, is a West End theatre actress, currently casting for High School Musical and Hairspray and the like. She's done some other great shows I sadly can't remember. She also told me, she was in that video! AND DON'T YOU JUST HATE IT WHEN YOU INSTANTLY RECOGNIZE THE FACE UPON HEARING THAT? YOU JUST CLICK? It really was her! I remember! Here she is on set in the orange glittery dress. Although she's not that big anymore and the yoga is making her lose weight (5 lbs in 2 weeks!). SO EXCITING! Maybe I should start looking into theatre shows now...*cough*DISCOUNTS*cough*

* Speaking of yoga, I just want to point out how proud I am of yesterday's class. I got a REALLY deep energizing stretch and executed fabulous pro-level postures, ESPECIALLY my Dandayamana-Janushirasana pose. I actually gasped in the middle of performing it because my head had finally touched my knee lol.

*PHEW! I think I'll leave it at that for now, don't ya think that should last you guys for a while? My work here is done. Have a great Thursday everyone.

INTERNSHIPS

My internship is still months away (by 2.5) but it's always a good thing to start preparing from early. I am almost clueless as to what to expect. I have never done anything like this in my life! Nothing else I've achieved comes to mind anymore in comparison to this.

I've been following Jazzi Mc G's (Thanks for finding her blog back for me Sally!) progress as a Fashionista.com intern for a little while and she's got some good tips; so does Miss Couturable, can't argue with that. Jazzi is a Teen Vogue contributor, and Miss Couturable, or Noel, is going to be a Teen Vogue intern this summer I think. Oh! And the very same helpful Sally has interned at Cosmopolitan, Cookie Magazine and is now an intern at Teen Vogue as well! WHAT IS IT WITH TEEN VOGUE?! Anyway, she's been giving me such great insider information too, about being backstage for her first fashion show and what her daily schedule is like.

So I've pocketed some advice and would like to share it with you because I know people who read this blog (and not many of you do yet), although it is not solely fashion, there are many aspects of it involved in my posts, so you, my readers may be interested in the fashion industry and possibly trying to smash your way into it.

Here's advice from 17 yr old over-acheiver Miss Couturable on how to grab an internship, along with other links for intern tips at the bottom of her post, and
Here's what Jazzi has to say on her little notebook, and why keeping one is so useful.

It's never too late to be an intern, or too early, apparently. SO GET CRACKALACKIN'! (Chris Rock's words, not mine)

VIVA MAGAZINE

HOLYSHIT DOT COM! If I hadn't spent my phone credit on a five minute call to the US, right now I would be calling up my mother to tell her to purchase every issue of Viva that comes out from February until May and air mail them to me, for research purposes. Do you care to know why?

Well, only because I will be INTERNING WITH THEM COME MAY OF THIS YEAR! Viva magazine is a popular fashion and lifestyle publication in the United Arab Emirates. I decided today, why not email some middle eastern publications about work experience this summer since I will be back home in Abu Dhabi for vacation with nothing doing but attending to this here blog.

Well, as simple as that, in a matter of three short emails back and forth with their editor Claire Turell, I got an internship working in Fashion and Features from May 11th until July 11th. IN DUBAI! I might have to rent somewhere there for a month because I don't live there but do you think this stops me from shitting ice cream right now? I'm still grinning as I type this and think about how the hell I am going to figure out accommodation. It's so exciting; very spur of the moment.

Now all I need to do is find a part time job to wile away the time here in England until that faithul May day. After all, I still have nearly three more months of vacation time to fill up after that and if I want to go to South America with my best friend I'm going to need some cash.

Well look at that! It's only February and 2008 is the coolest year EVER already!

[UPDATE: No longer May 11th to July 11th. Now June 1st for a month. Boohoo. Yeah, life happened. Don't ask]