Lunch Break: Persimmons and Platforms!

Hello Fashionators! 

Just thought I would spend my lunch break with my readers! I'm enjoying a lunch of tabbouleh, spinach, bean sprouts and a persimmon! It's delish!

This morning I was hard at work with the Marketing Manager at Upper Street photographing shoes for the Chinese New Year! To see them, check out Upper Street's Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts... But here's a sneak peak since you're all such lovely Fashionators!

This photo was taken and edited by yours truly! I'm proud of it, to be honest- but making amazing images is easier working in a lovely office filled with gorgeous shoes!

Also, remember to please download the Bloglovin' Application on your smart phone or tablet to read the Fascinator on the go and during your lunch break!

xo

BJordan

How to Get Lost with Confidence: A Guide to Navigating a Large City

Good Morning, London Fashionators! American Fashionators: sweet dreams!

I'm on the tube going to work! Happy Friday!!

While walking the short half mile to the underground station, a man stopped me and asked for directions in a frazzled tone. I, of course, had no idea where the place was. I get lost in my hometown (where I lived for 18 years) of maybe 15,000 people. Directions in London? There's a 99.99% chance I can't help you. I would say 100%, but everything is possible, as I learned in statistics class last semester. 

I don't care that he asked; it's actually flattering he believed I was a Londoner. I did however, notice the lack of confidence in his voice. Huge mistake. This was the perfect opportunity to post about how go get lost (and un-lost) in a big city! 

Step1: Travel somewhere where you had no map, no wifi, and no clue. 

Step 2: Be lost (this is the easiest step).

Step 3: Be Confident. This is the perfect time to try on the Anna Wintour look: Large sunglasses (indoors or out) and confidence.  If you don't look lost, you won't feel lost- and others won't feel notice that you're lost. This is actually important for keeping you safe from being mugged or harassed. Don't stand in the middle of the side walk gawking at a map or your phone; this provides an opportunity crime for others. 

Step 4: Move. you should have been doing this the entire time, but in case it's not obvious (and it really isn't when you're lost in a big city alone), keep going! Direction doesn't matter! If you're in a big city, you will find an underground station or bus stop in, at most, a few blocks. 

Step 5: Start scoping out where you need to go. This can be stopping at a coffee shop to get wifi if you're in an international country, getting on the tube and finding your way from there (hop on a train. Doesn't matter which one. There'll be a map inside.), or just getting into a cab and confidently saying "To 123 Lost Lane!" (but give them a real address. A fake one may result in extremely high cab fare and getting even more lost).

Step 6: Find a familiar place or face. Really dreadfully lost? Use WiFi to send a text, email, or message to someone in the country and ask for directions. Alternatively, find a familiar place and find your away around from there. 

Step 7: Become un-lost! You've done it! You've found your way to your destination (or if you're like me, just given up and gone back to where you're staying and poured yourself a glass of wine).

Just Remember: No matter what you do, even if it's becoming lost, do it with poise and confidence! 

xo 

BJordan

The End of my Hand Modeling Career

Hello Fashionators!

I am writing my first post on the go, and I'm afraid I may have made a dire mistake. I'm on a train that's packed like sardines- much unlike the one I took home last night, but it wasn't peak hours. Note to self: don't take the tube at 5:45pm. You will inevitably have your rump in someone's personal space. And I have a bit too much rump to be victimizing the kind citizens of London to that. 

In the words of Destiny's Child: I don't think you're ready for this jelly. 

While on the topic of train tragedies, I was in a terrible accident before hopping the tube this morning: I broke a nail. Actually, I ripped off a chunk of my nail. I have always planned on a career in hand modeling as a back-up if the fashion industry doesn't work out. I am sad to say that I think I ended my chances of handmodeling today. I was apparently over zealous about by Oyster card, and jammed my nail. Lucky for me, I'm a clever hand model and had my travel manicure set with me. 

Before traveling to London, I has inpeccably shaped nails. It's getting rough out here. 

Onto my most recent train tragedy: I just got off at Zone 3 because I realized I was taking the Picadilly line in the wrong direction. Brilliant. I guess I really shouldn't blog until I've gotten on the proper train. That also explains why the last train was so crowded- it was going into the suburbs! At least I have a seat now, and I'm not all up in someone's face. The pathetic part is that I went three stops before I realized I was on the wrong train. 

I don't always travel around London, but when I do, it's on the underground and I'm lost. 

                                                            xo

                                                   BJordan

What (Besides Letters) is in a Name?

Hello Readers!
Happy Wednesday! You're already half way through the week! So I've been doing plenty of thinking today (because honestly, what else is there to do on a rainy Wednesday in London?), particularly about names. 

Many blogs have cute names for their readers or address them as a specific audience. 

Ex: Hello Fashionistas! Greetings Foodies!

While I intended for my blog to be a fashion blog, it quickly became something very different. I'm not sure it has a genre, unless "Clumsy Daily Adventures of a Struggling Fashionista" is a new blog genre and I'm just in the dark about it. I do, however, want to greet my amazing followers with something other than "Hello Readers!" It's weak and you know it. If you're reading this, you should be aware of just how important you are to me. You are helping my dreams come true and making my blog more trafficked one view at a time. From now on, my readers shall hold the privileged title of Fashionators.  

So, Fashionators, I had a relatively quiet day. It was muddled and rainy outside and it's my day off of work, so my mind was free to wander. Today, my mind wandered inside of a handbag. A pale grey twin bag Prada tote, to be exact. 

It's the perfect neutral colour- it doesn't clash with any other colours! It's a staple in any fashionable woman's wardrobe, but I soon learned that it's also a detrimental hit to a struggling fashionista's (namely my own) bank account. That's actually a bit of an understatement. There are times where I do not even have enough money in my bank account to purchase this bag. When I say "there are times", I actually mean 99% of the time, as the 1% of the time I have such a large amount of money in my account, it is scholarships and grants deposited into my account, which are consumed hours later by my university tuition and fees. This bag costs more in USD than I made working two jobs this summer- one of which was above minimum wage. Just consider that for a moment. 

Despite my love of luxury fashion, I've never owned a high-end or luxury handbag. It's not the end of the world, especially since I'm only 20 years old, but it is a tiny bit irritating to see ladies my age and younger parading around with Prada, Louis Vuitton, and Chanel bags that were simply handed to them. I am not criticizing these ladies, their parents, their wealth, or even capitalism. No one decides what money they are or are not born into, and it is irrelevant to this conversation.

Rather, I am annoyed by the hierarchy that exists in fashion that often overlooks style. Any woman can parade around in trend designer clothes and have no understanding of fashion, styling, the history of the brand she is wearing, or the social implications of certain pieces (fur, exotic leathers, etc.). I don't believe this is the case with the young women in London who carry designer bags- it is, after all, a fashion capital. 

I do, however, see a trend in handbags carried by young women. "Beginner Bags" and "Staple bags", such as a monogrammed Louis Vuitton Speedy, a classic Gucci print bag, and Chanel bags with the famous crossing C's are commonly carried by younger women with a developing sense of style. These are bags that are, for whatever reason, assumed to be the standard for the first few designer bags a woman owns. It's as if there's a belief that you can't carry an Yves bag before carrying a monogramed Louis Vuitton. Spoiler alert: This is an inane urban legend. I don't know how this came to be the standard rule in fashion, but it is entirely absurd. This is not a criticism of the women, merely an observation about the fashion world. Being alive only 20 years, and delving into fashion only in the last three years, I absolutely cannot criticize any young person for not having a mature sense of fashion; it's nearly impossible. This un-said standard in fashion, however, I will openly criticize. 

It's like saying "You can't drive a McLaren without driving a Mercedes first", or "I know the man of your dreams is right here, but I think you should date a less impressive man before you move onto him." It makes no sense. 

I have also noticed that less "common" or "famous" designer bags are often sported by fashionistas and women with a more thorough understanding of the fashion world. Givenchy, Celine, Miu Miu and Yves Saint Laurent handbags are gorgeous bags that make a more profound statement and, on average, cost less than comparable "staple" handbags. 

I suspect that the companies selling "staple" bags understand that they have a greater brand recognition than Chloe or Stella McCartney, which is reflected in the price. A comparable Prada bag costs two to three times what a similar Chloe bag will fetch. These brands understand that demand is effected very little by price (or, as I learned with all that tuition money that could've bought a shelf of designer bags, the demand is inelastic to price), and that bags that act as status symbols have the power to transcend basic economic law. These brands have trapped loyal consumers because of brand recognition, which results in increasing prices with little increase in innovation in most situations. Gucci's "G" pattern and red and green stripes are crossing over from "classic" into "over-done". 

As a result, I find myself desiring "staple" handbags and brands less and less each day. As I pass one after the other on the underground and in the streets and see the mass market they sell to, I force myself to look elsewhere. Chanel bags? I saw five today and a pair of Chanel ballet flats. Louis Vuitton? I saw enough luggage in the airport to fill the store on Bond Street. Miu Miu? One of my favorite lines by one of the most prolific designers in the industry; have only seen one bag on the street during my time in London. Want to see the design quality yourself? Then view the most recent collections from Miu Miu & Chloe and compare them to Gucci.

Miu Miu: http://www.elleuk.com/catwalk/designer-a-z/miu-miu/spring-summer-2014/collection 

Chloe: http://www.elleuk.com/catwalk/designer-a-z/chloe/spring-summer-2014#image=6

Gucci: http://www.elleuk.com/catwalk/designer-a-z/gucci/spring-summer-2014#image=1

Ask Yourself: What do these brand names mean? Social Status or Innovation?

This is absurd. This is fashion. 

xo

BJordan

The Electric Slide and Answering Your Questions

Hello Readers!

I reached an exciting milestone in my blogging career over the weekend! My blog reached 1000 views! I was so excited that after only 11 days I had so many views! To celebrate, I have decided to make my blog more accessible! I have added my blog to the mobile application BlogLovin. To use this forum, simply download the app "BlogLovin", make an account, and type in The Fascinator in the search bar! There you will find my blog, so be sure to follow it! Now you can take my adventures with you wherever you go! Also, because I have gone mobile, I will be writing shorter posts more frequently, so you aren't stuck reading a novella at the end of every day!

But this day, you are! Sorry! (I sort of, erm, forgot I had gone mobile until I got home to sit down and write my nightly post. Oopsies.)

I started my morning by going to the Churchill War Rooms, which were fascinating. I found the details of Churchill's life, particularly outside of his political career, to be very interesting. When I left the museum, I turned left down the road (out of odd habit), and headed toward the bus stop. About halfway to the stop, I looked back and saw that there was a stop immediately to the right of where I had turned about a hundred yards backwards. I realized my mistake and turned around to catch the bus I needed to take at the other stop. After a few steps, the bus was pulling away and moving towards the stop I was previously traveling towards. No problem! I will just turn around. Again. I ran (in three inch wedges) towards the bus stop, but to no avail. My quest was in vain. I missed the bus. It wasn't a big deal, really, as buses come so frequently. I did, however, feel stupid for walking ten times as far as necessary just to miss my bus. 

I hopped the next bus and noticed one of my favorite stores as I was riding, so I got off at the next stop to treat myself to a bit of shopping before lunch. This was a remarkably stupid move, as it immediately began raining after I stepped out of the bus. I walked the few necessary blocks backwards to get to the store. I walked in, soaking wet, relieved to be indoors. I found a gorgeous white French Connection dress that came home with me, which made my walk in the rain worthwhile. 

I hopped the bus once more, except in the wrong direction. Brilliant. I had practically done the electric slide through the same few streets by the time I was on the correct bus.

After lunch, I began my daily commute to work. I arrived to the tube station to find peopled blocking the entrance outside. Surely it wasn't a queue that long!? 

Worse:

Tourists.

Even worse:

Secondary School Tourists.

About 75 of them.

"Oh my god the metro!" "We should get fish and chips!"

No, you should get out of my way so I am not late to work. I made my way through the mob of overly excited teenagers and thankfully caught the train while they were all "taking in" the sights of the underground.

I don't mean to be cynical; London is the most lovely city in the world and the public transportation can get you anywhere- but you'd have thought they were in Disneyland. Let's be honest, the underground is a bit dodgy at times and has rats the size of guinea pigs living in the stations. It's not a tourist attraction, it's a way for people to get to work. And if they think the tube is so magical, they should try skiing uphill in Arsenal!

Anyhow, I was casually taking the tube to work when it suddenly stopped. We hadn't arrived to the next station, we just... stopped. On the track. In the dark. None of the other Londoners seemed to even notice, but I sure did. Behind my tortoise Cole Haan sunglasses, there was a tinge of panic in my eyes. 

Were we going to be trapped here forever? Would I be late to work? If I'm late to work, will they not offer me coffee!? 

The train started moving again. I was relieved until I looked down at my phone and saw I had four minutes to get to work when I wasn't even in the proper zone. Smashing!

We stayed at that stop for quite some time to "get all the trains back on schedule". Oh, okay. Make the train I'm riding on late so it will be on schedule. Seems reasonable enough. 

Fortunately I got to work only a few minutes late, and no one seemed to notice. Also, I did get coffee, and it was magical (as coffee always is). 

Today I went to work thinking I would be working on the same project I was yesterday to prepare for my meeting at 3. When I was told the meeting was rescheduled for next week, I was a bit confused. 

Until....
I got a new project. A surprise project. One that was mentioned to me only today. And it was absolutely fabulous to work on- my favorite thing I've done yet!

Except I can't tell you what it is.

Well, not right now anyway. I am absolutely bursting to blog about my surprise two-day project for Upper Street, but I have to wait until the proper time! Until then, I will be very busy!


I noticed that at the end of my blogs, I say "I'll keep you updated", and then I don't. I'm sorry. I'm really not a liar, just a forgetful young lady. I will try to have more punctual follow ups from now on. Here is a follow up to a few of my previous blog posts:

What has Harvey Nichols sent me? 
I don't know! I still haven't received my parcel, which is fine as it's only been a week since they contacted me- but I really want to know so I can share it with all of my lovely followers!

Has Harrods sent me a proper apology, complete with a shopping spree?
Unlike Harvey Nichols, they have not contacted me. Honestly, they probably don't care since I'm not an heiress or a princess. I'm really not bothered by it. Money doesn't buy style or class, and my money won't be buying anything from Harrods. 

Have I developed any signs of mad lamb disease? 
So far I have not, but I am still traumatized by the experience. 

How was the trek through Arsenal today?
Since I was running late, I decided to speed walk through Arsenal. I discovered a previously undiscovered group of leg muscles and have been asked to join the US Olympic Speed Walking team. 

Have I bought any jeans to replace the Donna Karan pair I ripped?
Absolutely not! I tried on five dresses today and not a single pair of denim or trousers when I went shopping. I abhor trousers. 

And remember:

"In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different"

Coco Chanel 

xo

BJordan

A Cup of Coffee and Exercising in London

Hello Readers!

Happy Monday! I hope everyone had a smashing start to their week- I did! I am so incredibly in love with my job! Interning with Upper Street London is the best thing I've ever done. The whole Upper Street team is lovely, I'm surrounded by shoes, and I am passionate about the work I am doing. Today I researched images of luxury shoes and wrote about what sets them apart, the story they tell, and branding. I studied pictures of Louboutins as "work" today. Attention: I have found my dream job. 

While at work, I also braved the kitchen once more to face my arch nemesis: the French press. I took the French press off of the shelf with confidence and determination. I'm entirely kidding! I could hardly reach the top shelf (short girl problems) and still had absolutely no clue what I was doing. I got a generous spoonful of finely ground coffee, most of which landed on the (previously) spotless white counter. Excellent! I found some paper towels, cleaned up my mess, and tried again - all while clacking around in my stilettos on the tile floor. I put in a heaping spoonful of coffee and filled the press about half way full with steaming water. I let it steep as I found a mug, some milk and sugar. I pressed the coffee grounds to the bottom, held my breath in anticipation, and tipped the French press over the mug. What I poured out was a river of glorious, mahogany-colored coffee cascading from the heavens! For reference, I drank about two cups of coffee per day when I was in the States, and have had coffee maybe three times since moving to London- I've been having withdrawals. The last time I used a French press, I made about 3 tablespoons of coffee the color of soy sauce and the consistency of syrup. I happily (and honestly, a bit pridefully) sipped my coffee while conducting my research at work, which was the perfect afternoon pick-me-up on a rainy day.

You may be wondering why I needed a cup of coffee so badly (besides my coffee addiction) at work. I will tell you why! Because I engaged in strenuous exercise on the way to work. 

I am not talking about to half mile walk to the Underground Station or the physical effort it takes to strut around London in a fitted dress. I am talking about the excruciating (and literal) uphill battle that is Arsenal Station. For those of you who have never been to Arsenal Station, avoid it with urgency if you are able. This is no normal underground station, no no. This is an underground station designed to re-sculpt your entire body. 

The first time I ever used Arsenal Station was the day I went to Upper Street to meet Julia, the CEO. I began my exit of the tube station in way that appeared, at first, unassuming. I took a flight of stairs and made a turn. I (for whatever reason) thought it would be like the 20 other underground station's I'd been to in London, which meant exiting had three options from this point:
1. More stairs
2. A lift
3. An escalator 

Of course, that would have been too easy while on transit to my first meeting with the CEO of Upper Street. Dressed in a flowing, silk knee-length skirt, black stockings, a blouse and black blazer, I was dressed for success- just not the successful exit of the Arsenal Underground Station. Oh, and I was of course wearing brand new BCBG wedges- free of any and all traction on the soles of the shoes! 

I turned the corner to find Mount Kilimanjaro. Whoops I mean Mount Arsenal. The winding, uphill, tile floor that spanned for hundreds of yards in front of me proved to be the most extreme workout I had experienced in my entire life. Competitive swimming and dancing en pointe have nothing on climbing Arsenal Station. I used every muscle in my lower body to haul myself up the slippery floor in my wedges (which were slick as ice on the bottom). I felt that every step I took, I was sliding half a step backward. I had to move faster. I forced my quads to work at double time, but my legs were cramping only half way through the hike. My calf muscles ached as they were forced to climb in 4 inch wedges. My hamstrings were beginning to quit when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. I saw the light shining through the ticketing gates at the exit. 

But it was a trick! The closer I came to the end of the tunnel, the faster the cold wind channelled into my lungs. Arsenal tunnel not only tones your calves, thighs, and glutes - it pushes your respiratory system to it's limits. With every step you take, another breath of icy, brisk winter air is forced into your lungs. Finally, I reached the few stairs leading to the exit gates, which looked like the pearly gates of Heaven.  The pictures below hardly depict the 45 degree angle walkway. 

When I left my meeting, I strolled back down to Arsenal, assuming the walk (which was nearly a tumble) down the walkway would be far easier than the uphill hike. Again, wrong. I took one step onto the downward sloping walkway and immediately felt myself slipping. Oh. No. I used every muscles in my body to keep my BCBG wedges from turning into skis on Arsenal's Black Diamond walkway. I engaged my lower abdominals to hold my lower body steady while I commissioned my lower body to move forward - without eating the tile floor for lunch. After about 10 minutes of an agonizing involuntary cross fit workout, I was overjoyed to see the stairs. 

Needless to say, I have made my commute to work in flats and left my heels under my desk.

I am really happy, though, about the £70 I saved by not getting a gym membership and instead working near Arsenal. I will put it towards the new jeans I'll be needing after a few weeks of traveling through Arsenal regularly!

I think Precor should consider taking a business trip to Arsenal to study the muscles used while going up and down the sloping tile floors. If they can mimic that motion on a machine, they'd have the most successful (and painful) elliptical in the world! Ten minutes on the Arsenal elliptical each day and you'll have Candice Swanepoel's legs in no time! Again, kidding. I'm far too short for that. Maybe Kate Moss, at best. 

xo

BJordan

Eating Lamb and The Decline of the Birkin Bag

Hello Lovely Readers!

Happy Sunday! I hope everyone had an enjoyable weekend! I did; it was very relaxed. Friday night I watched "Confessions of a Shopaholic" with my flatmate, which I found to be inspiring despite being a bit corny and predictable in the plot. It was good for me to see a film where the fashionista's only financial knowledge is about how economics pertains to the fashion industry (story of my life). I did, however, have a few problems with the numbers in the movie. After years and years of living in NYC and shopping at places like Yves Saint Laurent, Jimmy Choo, and Gucci, she had incurred a debt (including interest) of only $16,000 some odd dollars. Let's be realistic. A single shopping trip at Yves could set you back a few grand. It's not like she had a few select pieces, either- girlfriend had enough designer clothes to open a second Harrods (and her closet was about as organized as their annual sale). If you look closely, you can see a Louboutin red sole on the back of the yellow heels she's wearing. Considering a pair of Louboutin heels can set you back anywhere from £395 to over £2,000, her debt is extremely underestimated.  Aside from that, it was a great chick flick with lots of designer clothes. 

Saturday was uneventful; I went grocery shopping with my boyfriend and ordered a book off of Amazon- I just turned 20, not 30, I swear!

Today I had lunch at an Indian restaurant with my boyfriend. I decided to be adventurous and try lamb. It looked harmless, and considering I've had goat and shark, I figured it couldn't be too bad. I abstain from eating beef and pork for ethical reasons (and it's horrible for your body), but am open to eating other meats. I put a small bite of lamb on my fork and unassumingly put it in my mouth (it has to taste like chicken, right?). I was mortified. The taste and texture is exactly what I remember beef to be like. What was I going to do? Spit it out at this nice Indian restaurant with white table cloths and flowers on the table? The panic began to set in as I was chewing. Did I actually care what the people in the restaurant thought more than I wanted to spit out this imitation beef? Surely not. "Maybe I can pretend to choke, and then it will be inconspicuous when I spit it out" I thought to myself.
No. I can't do this. I willingly put this horrible, beefy, repulsive piece of lamb in my mouth, so now I have to eat it. I had committed to it. By this point, my boyfriend was entirely aware of the panic- it was visible in my wide eyes and slow chewing. I did it. I quickly swallowed the beefy lamb before I could talk myself out of it. So far I haven't developed any signs of mad lamb disease, but I will keep you updated.

I spent the rest of the afternoon writing a paper, doing some reading, writing emails; all of those sorts of things. Because I've had so much free time, I've been catching up with my friends back in the States! While talking with one of my good friends, Kim Kardashian's most recent Birkin became the topic of conversation. Last year I read Micheal Tonello's memoir Bringing Home the Birkin: My Life in Hot Pursuit of the World's Most Coveted Handbag. It was an easy, fast read and gave an interesting perspective on the world of Hermes and more generally the luxury handbag market. For my readers who aren't familiar with Birkin Bags, here's the basic rundown:

• Birkin bags are luxury handbags created by Hermes, a French luxury leather retailer
• The first one was made in 1984 for Jane Birkin, which is where the name originates
• The bags are made from rare and luxurious leathers, including Calf Leather, Ostrich, Crocodile, Lizard, Epsom, Clemence, and Alligator- PETA's worst nightmare
• Bags retail around $7,400 to $150,000 depending on size, material and rarity
• You cannot just walk into an Hermes salon and ask for a Birkin, they will offer to put you on a wait list
• The most common way Birkin bags are acquired is not through Hermes, but through online retailers 
• Did I mention they cost more than a car?

So why would anyone buy a bag that costs more than their first car? What makes them so special? What jobs do people have to afford $150,000 bags, and where do I send my resume to get one? Honestly, they are nothing more than a status symbol. I am not denying that they are made from the finest leathers in the world or that they are handmade- they are- but the margins are absolutely absurd. We are talking margins higher than the second £3 bottle of water I bought at lunch today because the curry was so spicy. 

Every major luxury brand has a signature, covetable bag. Chanel is known for the classic 2.55 quilted shoulder bag, Dior the Lady Dior, Louis Vuitton the monogrammed speedy, etc. etc... and Hermes the Birkin.

Classic Chanel 2.55 Bag in Quilted Black Patent Leather

Black Patent Lady Dior

Louis Vuitton Monogram Speedy

A Black Calf Leather Birkin

Birkin bags were thought of as the choice handbag for the rich and famous, often viewed as extremely exclusive- only available for important people. Because Hermes does not display their Birkin bags in the store, they are able to deny them to customers who are not "important" enough to be seen with them and to make them seem more rare. For such a long time, this [cruel] method was effective, but with the rise of the internet and the lifespan of the Birkin, there has been discussion on the fashion community as to whether or not Birkin bags are still as valuable. The bag has been around for 30 years, so the market is more saturated than it was even just a few years ago. Victoria Beckham can be seen toting around her assortment of Birkin bags- over ten. In all fairness, she is a fashion icon with her own (successful) fashion line and A-list celebrity. 

The increasing availability of Birkin bags has made them available to people with less fame and importance (but plenty of money). Most recently, Kim Kardashian was given her 8th Birkin from fiancee Kanye West. Kim and her seven other Birkins can be seen below. It's rumored that she even uses one as a gym bag! It's casual, I mean I would totally throw my sweaty gym clothes and muscle milk in a bag that costs more than my car, no biggie. 

But Kanye went above and Bound 2- whoops I mean above and beyond for Kim's Christmas present. He got her a brown leather Birkin bag that was painted by George Condo. Headlines are calling it a collaboration of "high art and luxury fashion". I'm calling it "Helen Keller's first painting". 

The bag alone was an estimated $40,000, but there is no real indicator of what Kanye could have paid Condo (hopefully no more than $15, considering he ruined a bag that costs more than all of Kim's botox injections). Honestly, it's so ugly in hurts. Any college student who turned in a painting half this bad would fail their art class. It's revolting to think that something this shockingly ugly likely costed more than my college education. 

There you have it, the decline of the Birkin in one picture. But wait! There's more! Websites, such as Createures de Luxe, buy Birkins (new or used) and sell them for 50-100% markup. This makes them available to people with way too much money. Even better, sale websites, like Gilt, will have Birkin flash sales. The buyers for the websites purchase all the Birkins they can find until they have enough to create a flash sale. I predict that the Birkin will never lose it's economic value, because there will always be buyers. I do predict that a new "it" bag will appear in the next five years, hopefully not as absurdly priced as the Birkin. 

Just remember that no matter the bag, there are none as expensive or ugly as an undergraduate degree from Duke University.

xo

BJordan

Concussion and a Chanel Bag

Hello Lovely Readers!

Hope all is well! Happy Weekend!

Sorry I haven't written in so long, I had a bit of a silly accident Wednesday night after posting. My loving boyfriend made us drinks and we were chatting about our days when we somehow managed to turn the conversation into a tickle fight (this happens pretty regularly, drinks or no). Before I had even finished one drink, we had wrestled our way off of the couch and onto the floor. My boyfriend is 6 feet 3 inches (187 cm); I am a whopping 5 feet 6 inches with flats. He has at least 60 or 70 pounds on me, so I'm not sure why I even try to fight back during our tickle wars. Anyhow, he was laying down on the ground and I was trying to break between his legs to elbow him. As I was leaning down, his knee moved and hit me in the nose, forcefully sending the back of my head into the wall. Yes, that is correct. I got kneed in the nose so hard I flew into the wall... because of a tickle fight. This was at approximately 11pm. 

But my evening didn't stop there. I felt woozy and couldn't see straight. My boyfriend googled concussion symptoms and met most of the criteria. He walked with me to the A&E (UK version of the ER) where I got checked in and examined. My blood pressure was extremely high for me, 143 over 66. I waited for what felt like forever (mostly because I was tired, nervous, and totally out of it) to see the doctor. He confirmed I had a mild concussion. Oh. No.

We walked home (it was 2am) and I immediately grabbed my phone to email my boss. I was sleep deprived, confused, and plagued with having to write my boss telling her that I was going to miss my first full day of work because I had a concussion. I emailed her calling it a "chance accident", and was impressed with my clever wording considering the conditions.

Next I had to tell my mom. It was 2:30am in London, so it was only 10:30pm on my mom's side of the world. I FaceTimed her and she knew something was wrong. She immediately began questioning me - the usual mom questions: "What's wrong!?" "Are you okay?!" - until I told her to calm down. I began my story.

"So my boyfriend came over for dinner and we-"
"OH MY GOD YOU GOT MARRIED!?"
"No, mom. We are not married. Calm down."
"Okay, yeah, okay"
"So anyways, we were having a tickle fight and I-"
"YOU'RE PREGNANT!?"
"Mom shut up. I have a concussion. We got in a tickle fight."
"THANK GOODNESS! I was so worried!"
"Yea, no worries, just some minor head trauma. Thanks mom."

My mom took the news much better than expected, especially considering I'm an only child. She was so relieved to hear it was something minor like a swollen nose and head trauma. 

I went to sleep around 3am, but was woken up every few hours to make sure I didn't lose consciousness. I woke up around 10am to an email from Julia, CEO of UpperStreet. She was so kind and understanding and told me to take it easy- and asked me what happened. Great. Now I have to explain to the CEO of this luxurious shoe company that I have had trauma resulting from a zealous tickle war. Why not just put it in the cheap Metro tabloids with an ugly selfie under the headline "Drunken Girl Falls Too Hard For Her Boyfriend"!? I email Julia explaining the accident, feeling completely humiliated, but tried to have a sense of humor about the situation.

When my boyfriend texted me asking what I needed from the store on his way home from work last night, I told him I needed Paracetamol, Dinner, and a Chanel Bag. He had strict instructions not to return without all of the items, but being the bold young man he is, he returned without the Chanel Bag. I feel that if he gives me a concussion, I could at least get an apology present, right?

Yesterday was an unproductive day- nothing but Vogue, the Internet, and junk food- and I went to bed at 8:30pm last night. 

I woke up, went to UpperStreet, and enjoyed working on some projects. Julia told me she thought the way I got my concussion was "brilliant" and said it made her laugh, which was a relief. I am feeling a bit better, but am just tired and a bit lethargic. I plan on having a relaxed weekend with plenty of Elle, videos of fashion shows, and chocolates. Perhaps I'll even be brave and write an opinion piece on a designer or trend. Also- still waiting on my parcel from Harvey Nichols. Hopefully in comes in the next few days.

Hope everyone has a fabulous weekend!

xo

BJordan

My Guide to a Human Friendly Beauty Routine

Hello Everyone!

Hope you all had a wonderful Wednesday! I had a fine day, nothing very exciting though. I took the bus to the National Gallery and spent about 2 1/2 hours there, which was enjoyable. Afterwards I did a bit of work, went grocery shopping, and went back to my flat. I cooked dinner for my boyfriend, flat mate, and I. We had salmon with pesto and warm bread with olive oil. My boyfriend had linguine, but my flatmate and I split tortellini stuffed with ricotta and spinach, which was absolutely marvelous. We all had some chocolate cake (there's lots left over from my birthday!) and chatted for a bit. 

Since today was uneventful, I am going to dedicate this post to my guide to beautification. This is a gender-neutral guide on the basics of being the best you!

Sleep

We all know that sleep is important, but that there aren't enough hours in the day. I often find myself unable to fall asleep because I am so stressed, so I use home remedies like wine or NyQuil.  Getting enough sleep is important for maintaining energy levels, having vibrant skin, and feeling refreshed.

Skin and Face

There are a million myths about how to protect your skin, but it is very simple. Don't tan. You should not be the color of a Dorito, and you should not be tanner in December than in August. You aren't fooling anyone, and will have skin with a texture similar to your leather jacket by your mid 30s if you do. In all seriousness, be loving to your skin. I wash my face once or twice a day with Clinique's liquid facial soap, which is gentle but effective. I pat (never rub) my face dry and apply Clinique Dramatically Different moisturizer. It's a bit pricy, but it's great for dry skin and the winter time, and you only need to use a pea sized amount. 

My mother often scolded me as a child to not "make that face" so I would not get wrinkles. As I have grown into a young lady, I have prevented myself from wrinkly my forehead and "making faces" by mastering the art of throwing shade. If someone does something appalling, I simply speak my mind, give them the side eye, and go about being fabulous and dignified. No wrinkles needed.  Michelle Obama does it with grace and poise, but with just enough sass. Take note.

If needed, use a light powder foundation to even out your skin. This is great for the mornings you wake up with dark circles under your eyes because you ran out of wine and/or NyQuil. I use MAC Studio Fix and apply with a large, loose brush. Some days I top it off with Sephora's Rose Petal Blush with an Angle Brush .

Eyes

It is imperative to protect your eyes. I use Refresh eye drops to prevent getting dry eyes on windy days. I also make sure to wear polarized sunglasses whenever I am out in the sun, especially around water or while driving. I also love sunglasses because they are the perfect accessory to throw shade in- try Chanel sunglasses for a more Anna Wintour shade!  

If I do nothing else to get ready, I always put on black mascara. I have become particularly fond of Loreal's Butterfly Effect Mascara in Blackest Black. The brush is wonderful and shaped in such a way that I don't poke my eye out, but actually get to my eyelashes and make them long and noticeable.

Lips

It's windy in London, so I am never without my EOS lip balm in sweet mint. It keeps my lips soft and smooth, and it makes me feel like Miley Cyrus at the beginning of her "We Can't Stop" music video. I dig in my purse for a few minutes, trip on the side walk while digging, find it, and make weird faces as I put it on and walk down the street.

Hair

I refuse to wash my hair with shampoo and water everyday. To begin, I don't have the time. Shampooing, Conditioning, Treating, Drying, and Fixing my hair takes at least an hour before it begins its transformation from lion's mane to manageable. Instead, I wash my hair as needed, usually 1-3 times a week depending on the season, climate, etc. On the other days, I use dry shampoo. I spray a generous amount at the roots and work down to the tips. This has saved me enough time each day that I can now write this blog. 

Dying your hair can be a great way to change your look, but it is also risky business. Box hair dye is cheap for a reason: it looks cheap. Invest in having a professional dye your hair with quality dye instead of trying to DIY. That will only result in you paying more for a corrective coloring treatment, which will also cause more damage to your hair. I like to go a little darker with my hair color in the winter to correct the natural highlights my hair acquires in the summer. Just remember that dying your hair is taxing on it, and dying it too many times can result in hair loss, which is simply not a good look. 

Eating Habits

I don't believe in diets or counting calories. Eat quality food- you are what you eat, and no one wants to be genetically modified soybean oil. If you can, eat fresh, organic foods free of preservatives. My favorite part of being in the UK is the quality of the food and how much fresher the produce is. Incorporate a variety of foods in your diet that you enjoy and don't deprive yourself. Have a piece of cake on your birthday and have a glass of wine with dinner. All things in moderation, even the kale- especially the kale.

I hope this has helped you realize that even the best beauty products work best when used with a bit of sass and common sense! Whatever you use, make it work.

xo

BJordan

Birthday Booze and Working with Shoes

Hello Loves!

Sorry I didn't post yesterday; I took the day off for my birthday! I woke up to find my flat mate had decorated our apartment and gotten me a gift! She got me the most adorable pens- three of them that write in blue, purple, and pink. She also got me a fashion journal, which is the most perfect gift. The journal has different pages for logging purchases, outfits, look books, trends, etc. It is magnificent! I had a breakfast of a danish and chocolate milk, which was quite indulgent considering I usually eat quite healthily.

I went to class and was wished a happy birthday by my friends and classmates. For lunch I went to a Turkish restaurant with three of my friends and enjoyed falafel and homous. I received post from my family, which made me miss home. They sent beautiful cards with sweet messages and wished me a wonderful day.

I went to work and began by meeting with Julia, CEO of Upper Street London. She made me a beautiful cup of coffee - I really do not know how she does it - and we talked about my role in the company, my projects, plan of attack, and asked her about her vision for the company and her goals. She was extremely informative, but is also allowing me lots of freedom to do my projects, which I believe would not be the situation if I were working in America. I am absolutely in love with the company and my job after only two days of work.

While at work, I received an email from Nick at Harvey Nichols. He informed me that he was working to contact the store manager, and that I should anticipate to hear from them soon. Nick was absolutely lovely and nothing but kind when we were in correspondence, and he showed a strong dedication to quality customer service. Shortly after, I received an email from Sepideh, the store manager at the Harvey Nichols Knightsbridge location.  He was determined to resolve the situation and asked me for specific details about the associate who had been rude. I provided them to the best of my ability. He also asked me what brand of dress I had been looking at before the incident, which was Caractère. He also asked for my mailing address, as he was going to send a gift as a part of the apology. I was surprised by this extent of their apology, and am very excited to see what they send! Whatever it is, you can be sure there will be a full post with pictures the day it arrives! After the trouble Harvey Nichols went through to resolve the issue- Tweet at me, email me, connect me to the store manager, and send me a gift- I feel bad about how harsh the review I gave them was. I honestly believe my experience was an isolated incident with a rude associate rather than a problem with Harvey Nichols. Harrods, on the other hand, has done nothing, and the overall experience was of a much poorer quality than the incident at Harvey Nichols.

When I arrived to the flat, I found my dashing boyfriend waiting for me with a bouquet of 15 pink, red, and white roses and a small cake. I was absolutely in love with my roses until I began looking for a vase. I could not find one, so I sacrificed my large bottle of Evian to make a Pintrest-worthy vase for my gorgeous roses. He took me to dinner at this lovely Indian restaurant a few blocks from the flat. Afterwards, we made drinks at the flat. I had Irish Cream and Chocolate Milk. I am sure it sounds odd, but it was a fantastic dessert drink- the only problem was it was so easy to drink! We watched a movie and shared a piece of cake to wrap up my birthday, and I could not have asked for a better day.

xo

BJordan

Theatre and Ripped Donna Karan Denim

Happy Monday! 

Hope everyone had a great start to their week- I did! I woke up to a tweet from Harvey Nichols apologizing for my experience and instructing me how to contact the store. I am in correspondence with them via email, and sincerely hope we come to a resolution. I appreciate that they read my blog and want to correct the problem, but I will keep you all updated on the correspondence!

This morning I traveled to Southwark to tour the reconstruction of the Globe theatre. The tour guide was enthusiastic and made to tour very enjoyable. I learned more about Shakespeare in one hour than in the multiple English classes I took in high school, including a 30 page research paper I wrote about him my senior year. Afterwards I grabbed a quick (and pathetic) lunch of bread, water, and a Cadbury chocolate, which I scarfed down on the tube. I went back to the flat to change out of my street clothes and into a black high waisted A-line pleated skirt, soft blue scoop neck blouse with a black lace collar, black tights, and BCBG black suede wedges for work. I traveled to the Upper Street London office to begin my internship. I am excited about my projects and worked primarily using Photoshop today. I also made a terrible cup pf coffee. I floundered with using a french press and the coffee to water ratio, and made a very small, very (disgustingly) strong cup of joe. I added as much milk and sugar as possible to make in bearable, but it was quite embarrassing. 

After work, I met up with my dapper boyfriend and did some grocery shopping. We hadn't time to make dinner, as we had tickets to a play in an hour. I went to the flat and changed into my favorite jeans- my black Donna Karan skinny jeans. They fit like a dream and go with everything. They can be dressed up or down, and are so comfortable! I hiked my leg up onto my bed to adjust my shoe and was shocked by a sudden waft of chilly air on my mid thigh. I contorted myself into a new yoga position to find that I had ripped my favorite jeans. Not only are they my favorite, they are the only jeans I brought to London! I hate shopping for jeans too. Will I go without? Will I find jeans? I don't know- but I'll let you know what happens. 

We saw 12 Angry Men at the Garrick Theatre, which would have been more appropriately named 12 Irritable, Racist, Sexist Bastards. The acting was quite good, though I could tell a few of the actors struggled with American accents while shouting. The play was well written and well executed. When we got back to the flat, I made us a dinner of chicken, penne, and creamy tomato sauce. The sauce was pretty terrible, so I gave up about a third through my pasta and had chocolate milk and a Cadbury Marvelous Creations bar. 

Tomorrow is my birthday and I will be turning 20! I am so excited! I love birthdays because it gives me license to treat myself like a princess and justify buying myself nice things! I also love the festivities, cupcakes, and getting post! I will write all about my birthday on Wednesday (I am assuming by the time I get home tomorrow night, I will have had too much wine to log into my computer).

xo

BJordan

Why I Will Never Shop at Harrods or Harvey Nichols Again

Happy Sunday! 

Today my dashing boyfriend escorted me shopping! We first went to Harrods in the early afternoon, where it was incredibly busy, as it was the last day of their only sale of the year. Before arriving in London, I had heard of how incredibly tacky and ridiculous Harrods is, but I did not find that to be true. When I walked in the first floor, I was greeted with ornate counters of fine make up - MAC, Chanel, Dior, Lancome - all the major brands. I breezed past them, and headed straight into the handbag salon. Each individual handbag boutique embodied the brand without disrupting the flow of the room. I particularly appreciated the large selection of Chanel bags they offered, as you will be hard pressed to find a selection in North Carolina. When I went to the second floor, I found large white rooms with clean lines housing individual boutiques for each designer. The clothes were neatly hung and the beautiful displays showcased the best pieces. There were large sale racks in center aisles with women shoulder to shoulder browsing the final mark downs. When I went to try on two dresses, the sales associate informed me that the fitting rooms were full, but there were more on the other side of the room. When I went to that fitting room, I found a frazzled sales associate. She informed me that the fitting rooms were full, and that I should try the ones the next room over (the ones I had just left). She began to scurry off, but I informed her that they were also full and I was willing to wait. Instead of any of the four associates asking me if I needed another size or what I thought of the dresses, they were all standing around and griping about how they didn't want to work in the shoe department today. I expect much better customer service from Harrods. Strangers in the grocery store are more helpful than the sales associates on the second floor of Harrods. I did like one of the dresses, but left without it because I didn't fancy it enough to buy. I was annoyed to hang the dresses back up without any assistance from the many associates I passed. When I went to the women's shoes, it appeared a tornado had hit  Fall/Winter '13 fashion week, and the shoe department was to aftermath. McQueen shoes with black marks on blush suede, bent Nicholas Kirkwood heels, and Charlotte Olympia stilettos with hardware missing for as far as you could see. You could not find a size or sales associate anywhere, so I left shortly after. Harrods as a monument of fashion is not tacky or bizarre, it is a Mecca of luxury fashion. The staff, however, is second rate. Unless you walk in dressed in fur and carrying a Birkin, do not expect an associate to notice your existence.

My boyfriend and I grabbed a small lunch then headed down the street to Harvey Nichols. It was extremely similar to Harrods in appearance and displays. Many designers were grouped in the same manner as they were in Harrods, but the feeling is less grand than at Harrods. Harvey Nichol's shoe selection was much better organized than Harrods, though. In addition to having all the major designers, Harvey Nichol's has a Christian Louboutin shoe salon, complete with red carpet to match the red soles. The shoes were absolutely spectacular, and I swooned over a pair of "Princess Glitter" nude stilettos that I were much more spectacular in person than online.

Harvey Nichol's also sported a gorgeous Jimmy Choo salon, and personally earned much higher marks in the Shoe Department than Harrods. I tried on quite a few pieces, but encountered common problems such as fit, color, and struggling to purchase something that wasn't black. When I made it to the top floor with my handsome gentleman of a boyfriend, I immediately gravitated toward a black dress. It had 3/4 sleeves and an adorable bow on the left shoulder. As I was looking for the size (I am still struggling with UK and Euro sizes), I noticed a sales associate was speaking to me. He was abrasively instructing me that "The sale section is over there" and pointing towards clothes that had been marked down. My boyfriend and I were insulted and disgusted, as I could have easily afforded the dress at full price, and was in fact not looking for the sale section. My boyfriend was also taking me shopping for my birthday (which is Tuesday!) so I would have something new to wear to dinner. After leaving the area that sales associate was working, I found a spectacular Helmut Lang black jersey skirt. It was floor length and has a mid thigh slit that is large enough to show leg and small enough to be classy. My boyfriend insisted that I get it, but I didn't, despite loving it. It was an amazing piece and is very ahead of American fashion. I didn't purchase it because Harvey Nichols does not deserve the business of me or my boyfriend, as their associates treated us with such disrespect. I refuse to contribute to the paycheck of someone who insults me. Overall Harvey Nichols was a majestic department store, but the sales associate instructing me to the sale section when I was in fact, not looking for it, was beyond rude.

Considering Harvey Nichols and Harrods are two of the leading luxury department stores, you would think they would treat their customers with respect. To clarify, I wasn't wearing jogging pants and a sweatshirt, either- I was wearing a dress, black tights, brand new black wedges, vintage gold earrings, and ascot, and a black coat. I did nothing to elicit that type of behavior from sales associates, and they should be ashamed that they have lost my respect and business. I will never shop at Harrod's or Harvey Nichol's again. I can find better customer service at Tesco. 

Fortunately, on the way home, my boyfriend had us take a route so that we could go back to the shoe store. He bought me a beautiful pair of black suede Jeffrey Campbell platforms that I am looking forward to wearing! 

There is no such thing as heels that are "too high".

xo

BJordan