Harajuku Girls...Teenage Excess.

Gwen Stefani's Harajuku Girls perfumes remind me of the 99p Impulse bodysprays I used to shoplift from Boots, whilst slathered in 17 concealer which gave my acne-ridden visage a kind of surface-of-the-moon crater effect and wearing red parachute pants with the straps hanging off, purchased from Camden Market.
Aaah, puking after the walzters at Pack Monday fair, smoking in the woods behind my friend Alice's house just after the Blair Witch Project was released and scaring ourselves silly when her mum shouted her to come in, avoiding the Youth Centre man who'd catch us leaving through the back entrance of our Friday night cover story [why would 15 year olds want to watch Grease on a 12" TV screen in a room that smelt of socks and damp?] to go to the park and drink the bizarre concoction that my friend-with-the-alcoholic-dad had made from said dad's extensive liqour collection......thanks for the memories, Gwen.

Ways To Exploit Already Debt-Ridden Journo Grads.... #1

We are looking for a full-time intern to do work experience from Monday 8th June for a minimum of 4 weeks. Candidates should be hardworking, efficient, creative, and most of all, passionate about the luxury sector and online shopping! Basic computing skills are also a must. The internship is a fantastic opportunity to add to your CV and gain experience in lifestyle journalism.

Your responsibilities will include everything from helping the editorial team with the Gift Guides and offers pages, to liaising with PRs, assisting with the general running of the site, and more. As part of a small team, your role will be really hands on. You’ll also get the opportunity to write articles on fashion, beauty, home and more.

You will receive £5 a day for expenses.

Kitchen At The Circle

Free champagne is my kryptonite. I have been at the preview of new restaurant Kitchen, for about forty-five minutes and I am on first name terms with the champagne waitress, have gotten lost in the exclusive member’s venue downstairs, The Circle Club, on the way to the loo, and have loudly weighed up the benefits of nipping to nearby Maccy D’s for a quick Happy Meal before the main event.

I’m so glad I waited. Kitchen serves heart-warming British cuisine, including a Sunday roast that- stop kidding yourself- is way better than your mum ever made. No burnt potatoes or soggy carrots here; this is gourmet dining for the truly hungry. Even my champagne-induced munching is sated.

The venue is comfy as well, with a purposely shabby-antique feel. Decadent high-backed leather seats that look like a Victorian cab are so easy to sink into, and fit in perfectly with the surrounding 19^th Century arcade. If Mr Darcy ever took Miss Bennet out for supper, they’d probably go somewhere a lot like Kitchen. Whether they’d drink Moet with the footballers and Corrie stars downstairs remains to be seen.

Estate Agent Glossary

I am looking for a new pad. After trawling the internet and the property pages in the free MEN I have been to see several contenders and am starting to learn the language of the Estate Agent. So to help you avoid wasting weeks plodding around the city trying to find the holy grail that is the perfect city centre property, I have created a glossary of what those shiny ads actually mean.

“In the heart of the city” : Salford is a city, you know.

“Large open plan living area”: with a fold-down bed in a cupboard, how handy is that?

“Five minutes walk to the Northern Quarter”: It’s in Ancoats. Well, technically, Clayton.

“New development” : Still being built… enjoy the cranes and the constant sounds of drilling!

“full of period features”: Still draughty and damp from when it was a cotton mill, but with lovely public loo-style tiles from when it was an office in the 1970s.

“fully furnished to a high standard” : it has a plasma TV built into the wall, but two stacking chairs and an upturned cardboard box in the kitchen.

“Bargain of the year!” : the mould’s name is Harry, he seems to like you.

“Ideal for the young professional around town”: as long as you work such long hours you are never there to notice how it’s so small that you can sit on the loo and touch everything in the apartment.

“near to local nightlife”: have fun cleaning drunken vomit off your front door every Sunday morning.

Summertime...

It’s that time of year again. The sun has peeked out from behind the clouds for precisely 3.5 seconds and the Great British public have decided its out with the Ugg boots and the oversized cardis and in with… well, a short trip down the high street suggests all manner of absurd summer wardrobe faux pas. Now, I know that we have been without summer for a good two years now and this sunshine has been a long time coming but that is no excuse for the monstrosities that we flabby, pale brits inflict on the world every time this time of year comes around.

1. Long swishy skirts are just as cool and look better on chunky thighs than nasty cargo shorts which kind of ride up in the middle, you know what I mean…
2. Spaghetti straps make broad shoulders look like a roasting joint in string.
3. Ballet pumps hide yellowing, hairy toes.
4. A large rimmed hat will hide your ugly face.

I’m just kidding about the last one. But seriously, if there’s any more talk of Manchester getting a city centre “beach”, I shudder to imagine the sights that we shall see plodding down the imported sand….

New club night lives up to name

Unhinged

Music Box

Oxford Street

Manchester

M1 6EQ

(0161) 236 9971

Tickets
£5 ADVANCE (Skiddle/Guestlist/Flyer/NUS)
£6 without b4 11pm, £7 after

Third Friday of the month
10pm-4am

Friday 20^th Feb 2009

A brand new night for Manchester’s Music Box, Unhinged drew a certain type of… oh, well, let’s just say that this reporter has never met so many strangely aggressive people in such a small crowd. As Eminem stated, a good few years ago now, “Nobody listens to Techno.” Well, Mr M, unfortunately they do, and they all seem to have their Crocs on [my Mother’s phrase for people who are a wee bit touched in the head]. One bizarre buff dude in a grey T-shirt seemed so out of his head that he was intent on starting a fight with anybody, including the poor old speaker that took his ‘roid-fuelled ranting silently for about twenty minutes before he realised he was threatening an inanimate object. Hmm, maybe lay off the anabolics, Arnie. Unhinged? You got that right.

It's a proper crime that, isn't it?

So I did a bad thing unintentionally. I found a letter addressed to someone with the same name as me [well, with a different but similar-looking first initial] for the flat next door. Clever postie found a way to halve time on his route by shoving all mail through the main letter box in the foyer instead of going through the ball-ache of actually delivering the mail to the seperate mail boxes just inside the door. So I was doing my good Samaritain/nosey parker act by performing the service the government's employees should be doing, myself. And I came across this letter.
It was a handwritten address and I assumed it was some dozey secretary mishearing or misreading my name. Turns out, no, there is a girl next door with a very similar name, who is [shock horror!] in even more debt than me. So, obviously I did the right thing and Pritt-Sticked the envelope closed and put it in her box. And went about my day with an ever-so-small spring in my step, knowing I'm not the only one in this swanky part of town with, let's say, cash flow issues. Good times. And to Miss L, do pop over for a cuppa.