Letter From Manchester

 

In Manchester, the End is Nigh. Of course, only for those who are at the end of their University experience and must remind themselves this is a rite of passage and one that has been lived by many before. There are those, like myself, who live everyday leaning towards some Reality Bites inspired 'end of University angst', occasionally sighing forlornly 'only 8 weeks to go now. We'll never see each other again.' There are also those who roll their eyes in response, swig their last slug of beer from their can before realising, equally panicked that the End is indeed Nigh. The time is 2am and that was the last can. Such small crises continue in the midst of the bigger one.

Final papers are being handed in, bikes are cycled through bitter winds and into University to collect grades which finally mean something. Those in relationships are determinedly ignoring June and the future, and others are snogging old friends before it is too late.

Future plans consist for some of blank pages, for others trips to Malaysia or graduate schemes in which one must once again start at the bottom as the runt of the litter, but with the pride of telling relatives at parties that a salary is in sight. While we stir our meals in big communal pots at dinnertime someone asks 'who will be the first of all of us to have a baby?' with the same wariness and excitement reserved for the one who will cure cancer. Gigi, obviously, we quickly conclude and go to scrape the lentils which started to burn in the pan while we shallowly contemplated our own lives as if we were starting to sketch the storyboard for our own future-montage scene. The rest refill their glasses and continue with the next and darker instalment of 'Would You Rather?' with a gruesome scenario which involves a life of being forced to watch your parents most intimate moments, or worse.

Lots of us have left already for Easter and today me and Nanon spent all of our time together, walking along desirable streets after stopping at the greengrocers, pointing at the houses we fantasise about living in next year. I put on a comedy Lancashire accent and tell Nanon "ooh, you could be a modern day Lowry with all them bricks around you, stand still and I'll take a picture." She poses and says "I'm just like Ian Dury" before realising that she meant Curtis, but that Curtis definitely wouldn't have worn a camel coloured coat with slightly puffed shoulders. We continue the househunting like an older and wiser couple and come up with equally fantastical life plans and wonder if they might actually be achievable. We'll get jobs as waitresses and rake in the tips which are currently elusive to us, and in the evenings write the screenplay for a truthful sitcom all about women in their early twenties which will be dazzling and successful and will inevitably recieve comparisons to Girls, because it's about girls, but that's okay, you can't change everything at once. We'll never fall victim to those days when try as you might you can't get out of bed and we'll do all the things and more.

We come home to mine once the snow has returned and our eyelids are too cold to take any more fantasising outdoors and we cook more lentils and together with Yas we youtube 'Can't Hold Us Down' by Christina Aguilera and Lil' Kim and remember who great it is, being overly nostalgic about something that only happened in 2002. We think about how nostalgic we'll be in 10 years time, we'll really have license then, but realise that in 10 years time nostalgia will probably be a luxury, and just a way for students with few hours of classes and no real concerns to pass the time, which is okay for now.

The Conversation

Click for Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. 

It is rare that I read or watch an interview and feel that I've been left with something useful. Every month a glut of interview features amass the shelves of newsagents and supermarkets and bookshops and yet they mostly lack any wisdom or thought-provoking nuggets. The work commitments of actors, creatives, business people and musicians who have albums, books and records to promote seem to be viewed as separate from an opportunity to have interesting conversation. It is understandable, I've watched Notting Hill, I know how these tedious press junkets work. But it is disheartening to buy a glossy magazine and to always read the same formula. Female subjects are usually wrapped up in an oversize mohair jumper, looking natural and wearing little make-up and talking about things that ultimately aren't massively interesting in a self-deprecating way. Or maybe the problem is that so many of these subjects aren't massively interesting to me in the first place. So you have a slightly bland star dominating the interview feature for 4 pages and then someone who really is interesting- Tilda Swinton, say, who is featured in the 'My Life in Books' feature, with something a little more meaningful crammed into 300 words. It is frustrating but also a practice that I shouldn't expect mainstream glossy magazines to move past anytime soon.

If I want something really satisfying I have learnt to bypass the usual titles (even those fashion magazines that parade as different and as promoting strong women but ultimately don't) and stick to some tried and tested formulas. Jessica Stanley's blog is one of my absolute favourites and I always feel satisfied after reading one of her compilation posts of interesting articles and interviews from across the internet. She has a knack of finding opinion pieces or articles, from random blogs I would never have found, or maybe something from the Paris Review archive. Maybe it will be about the romance of being single, or the creative process or a really touching and well-written piece about a memory of living in New York. Either way it is the sort of thing I'll read while I eat my porridge in the morning and it will stay with me for the rest of the day, or maybe even longer. Magazines like The Gentlewoman and Apartamento also hit the mark for me in terms of insightful encounters with subjects and I remember enjoying this interview with Sheila Heti on KCRW via 10.17.

When I read an interview I'm ultimately curious about how people live their lives, because if we're not making it up as we go along, then we're quietly watching others for clues. I want to know about their routines or their self-doubts or what they've recently watched or read or thought about. I'm a big fan of 'isms' and maybe my requirements of interviews are ultimately selfish, by wishing to be left with something for myself at the expense of a subject revealing something about themselves. Really though, I know it isn't selfish, more a wish to be left with something more meaningful than the release date for a film.

Last weekend I spent 45 minutes or so watching a 4-part interview with Nick Cave on Youtube and it is absolutely an example of the 'satisfying interview'. A conversation between the interviewer and the subject rather than a personal portrait laden with a heavy portion of flattery. The interview is from 10 years ago, and very informal with the conversation between the two men starting with some memories of the last time they met and Nick Cave asking "Are we doing this? Are you filming?" about 3 minutes in, after their conversation has become the interview but without a cue to indicate it. I would really recommend sticking the kettle on for a cup of something hot and watching the 4 parts which are broken into the topics of discussion 'Habits and Routines', 'The Creative Process', 'The Love Song Lecture' and 'Self Image'. A lot of the brilliance of this interview is down to the interviewer himself, by asking interesting questions and knowing what Nick Cave has to share. Nick Cave, cigarette in hand, is all the time speaking very much within himself, and using his energy to find the right words rather than channelling it into being self-deprecating and fun and liked. This is definitely something I notice a lot in a majority of interviews and I think it is something we do on a daily basis in our conversations with each other and sometimes it takes away from what we're actually saying. Not that we have to always be serious and thoughtful, but the very British habit of being self-deprecating is one that sometimes becomes draining in social situations. Either way, I recommend all 4 parts to be enjoyed with a cup of Earl Grey and a slice of Banana bread and a blanket over the knees.

Apron Appreciation

I bought this dress from the JW Anderson x Topshop collection last week and man, I like it. It makes me feel like a French painter or a baker who means business. I work at the cafe in the Whitworth Gallery and there is a woman who works at the gallery who always comes in for a bowl of soup at lunchtime wearing a fantastic denim apron. It is sturdy and a dark wash of indigo with paint flecks and cutting dust along the sides. All good aprons should have various dust on the sides- the greatest pleasure in wearing one is being able to wipe your hands on yourself when they're dirty like you did as a child without any adult instincts getting in the way, and for the muck to actually add to the personality of the denim. A crumb, paint, coffee gradual, jammed, free-for-all.

My dress isn't quite in the same category as hers but I like it with its little frills. I wore it to my Aunt's 40th over the weekend. Before I left the house- in some anti-Coco Chanel philosophy- I added a couple of accessories. (Sacre bleu! She always says to remove them! Well, I'm never much the accessories type, so if anything I should always follow the opposite of her 'isms') So on when my banana brooch and up went a ponytail. All after a brush of the teeth, of course. 

Hot Stuff

Jumper: Uniqlo, Dress: secondhand, Bumbag: Mr Ben Handbag + Luggage, Clogs: Topshop, Neon Nail Varnish: American Apparel.

I wore this a couple of nights ago for a fantastic night of dancing and blowing off some post-essay steam. There has been an increasing trend in Manchester (and I'm sure many other UK cities) of clubs advertising nights as playing Disco and Boogie when in fact all they do is play Deep House for half an hour and then the night descends into a tedious beat from midnight with a room of people pretending thats what they're really into. It's not what I'm into. I don't understand why there has to be ambiguity about clubs advertising a certain genre of music which they have no intention of playing just to tap into some retro nostalgia. The point is, I like dancing to Disco and I get bummed out when promises are broken. The beauty of Thursday night however was that it was disco and boogie and soul and perfect merriment free of House music pretension. Just good old lashings of Donna Summer and Kool and The Gang and lots of rosy cheeks and wide smiles and a mirrorball  So anyone in the Manchester area, I urge you to keep your eyes peeled for Stevie Wonderland. (My own enjoyment of the night had absolutely nothing may have had something to do with it being my namesake.)

In other news I've sacked off being a blonde and returned to the reddish shade I had a few years ago and it feels good. 

Lastly, here are two videos for your Saturday viewing pleasure:
( I recommend them thoroughly and personally can't stop myself from watching Sunset Sam and Lucy and Ramona hanging out in their rollerskates and tight pants.)

moodboard

Hello, hello. It's Monday, the start of a new week already. How does it keep happening? I'm back from a weekend away in Snowdonia with a big group of friends for a birthday. We hired a big lodge beside Llyn Gwynant and after arriving in the dark, my weekend started with an astonishingly beautiful view of the lake as I opened the blinds, the steep slopes of Snowdon visible amongst fog. Picking my way through the bottles of wine from the night before and sharing a cup of Earl Grey and the view with some of the bleary eyed gang in a novel location was a great start to the weekend. Later we went on a walk which blew the cobwebs away and spent the afternoon playing cards and Jenga, a perfect antidote to the stresses of the final year of university and the slight uncertainty surrounding our futures which is something we're all experiencing at the moment. Now it is back to reality, but here are some of the cool things that have been pleasing me and punctuating my essay writing. 

Some cool things: (Clockwise from top left) This guy with a snake around this neck from the Spring Summer 2013 collections editorial in the March issue of Dazed and Confused. / Tom Waits, as ever. But particularly so in this photo. I've been listening to Nighthawks At The Diner a lot recently, particularly 'Better Off Without A Wife' for its celebration of the romance of singledom. ("Goin' out when I want to, comin' home when I please, I don't have to ask permission if want to go out fishing, and I never have to ask for the keys") / The fantastic Supreme x Comme des Garcons lookbook with Chloe Sevigny and Jason Dill. While the streets (at least in England) have become somewhat saturated with Supreme logos and similar knock-off streetwear odes, this lookbook still looks fresh. It's Chloe. It's always because of Chloe.. / Bay Garnett's instagram -her daughter's transfer tattoos and two badges reading 'lover' and fighter'/ Beautiful snapshots of the American outdoors by photographer Jocelyn Catterson via Miss Moss / A poster on a wall in my friend's house which reads "How to survive times of austerity.. loot the shops and paaarty!" Smashing sentiment!/ A Jenny Holzer truism- 'Raise Boys and Girls the same way."

God Only Knows

Hullo thah. What have we here? Rare, full-frontal, shameless sunshine beaming down on Manchester. Days like these require a swift departure from the house, sunglasses (while it lasts), some Mac lipstick in Morange and lots and lots of Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys. If you can only do one of these things, make it Pet Sounds. Seriously.

On a side note, hopefully some more frequent posting can continue soon. That place I'm swiftly leaving the house for is the library. Final few months of studying and all that. 

moodboard

A few things:

Composition 10 by Sam Falls (see here) which has made me want to dash to an arts supply store and buy paints in the colours of avocado and butternut squash to create something similarly bright. I miss how much time I used to spend drawing and painting and cutting and sticking when I was a teenager and a desire to spend an afternoon doing something with my hands and a paintbrush has really sprung upon me this week.

Another fantastic outfit from Anne Bernecker. The whole patterned trouser/trainer combination really is infallible.

Valérie Donzelli, director of Declaration of War  with her burnt orange hair, head thrown back, red lippie and white heels. I can take or leave the bag but the shoes-the shoes are putting all kinds of ideas about wearing something snowy coloured on my feet. A proper pair of point-toed white heels, the kind that Carrie Bradshaw or Gwyneth Paltrow would probably have worn all the time with a pair of slightly bootcut jeans back in the day. Trust me on this one, they'll look great with a summer tan and a dress (will the day ever come?)

Rise Early, Be Industrious! I've had this poster on my wall since Olivia Plender's well-named exhibition was at the Arnolfini in Bristol last summer. It sits above my desk to inspire me when I get up in the morning. Like all things permanently stuck to a wall, or the everyday objects in our lives, I've become pretty used to it and don't always really see it. But it's still the philosophy I like to start my days with.

Amanda's painting. Also appealing to that "where are the paintbrushes?" sentiment, this painting by Amanda that I spotted over on her blog. She painted them of friends in Paris, on the metro and on the streets.

Diary

A night in the bosom of the home, a lunch of melt-in-the-mouth beef and salad at Ottolenghi and a heavy dose of Disco* has left me feeling refreshed and in a much better space than last week. I spent the last few days away from Manchester, in Bristol and then London where I enjoyed lots of satisfying catch-ups with friends over various delicious foodstuffs and caught the Rain Room exhibition at The Barbican. I'm planning on sticking around in Manchester for a year or so after graduating this summer but London once again did a very good job of wooing and beckoning. 

I always expect others to provide blow-by-blow food accounts to vicariously tickle the old saliva glands, so I shall do the same. This is also because I want to remember some of the glorious flavour-combinations to recreate for lunchboxes. I've been making red cabbage slaws in bulk recently and leaving them in the fridge so I can spoon them into lunch boxes throughout the week but my recipe still needs some improving, so I've taken notes from Ottolenghi.

Ottolenghi with Sim: Seared fillet of beef with three salads. (Red cabbage, beetroot, celery and apple slaw. Maftoul and mograbiah with pistachios, turmeric and rocket. Roasted butternut squash with molasses and date yoghurt.)

Cafe at The Wellcome Collection with Josh: Pot of vanilla chai tea. (Scone was underwhelming, coffee disappointing)

Song Que with Josh: Rice paper prawn rolls and Beef steak noodle soup washed down with a bottle of Halida.

I also managed to fit in catch ups with Navaz and Charlie from Urban Outfitters who are always great for in-depth blog chat, reference sharing and adding their two cents to my 'future planning' which seems to be very much my current state of mind with the end of University only a few months away. Charlie also very kindly allowed me to choose a few items to take home which filled a few gaps in my wardrobe. As much as I love and desire a good bomber jacket, I ended up going for the lovely, soft cocoon coat instead. Does anyone else suffer from the bomber jacket problem? They always look great from the front but I find they end up bunching up at the back so I look like I'm straddling a wind machine. 

The marriage of digital technology and art is always one I always find appealing, so the Barbican's Rain Room was fun and surreal in a calming, slow way as I stepped around the rubber pad watching the overhead showers respond to my movements. My friend and I got in after waiting for just under an hour but I'm not sure it would have been worth it if we'd waited for longer as the novelty of the concept ends rather quickly. Having said that, it's wonderful that such an innovative exhibition comes with free admission, so if you're passing and fine about waiting with a cup of coffee then it's worth swinging by. 

*Last Days of Disco and that frothy Graham Norton-narrated documentary followed by a load of old TOTP footage on BBC Four.

Outfit

While the kettle for my hot water boils.. this is what I wore this evening for a couple of birthday cocktails in honour of Sim's birthday. Another coat borrowed from another flatmate (this needs to stop), a dashing new lime jacquard top from Topshop, my Marks and Sparks school skirt and an Asos hairband. 

We drank at The Alchemist where adults spend lots of money on cocktails from a menu that reads like a child's sugary fantasy. Marshmallow or Bubblegum Daiquiris and flavourings evoking the smell and taste of fizzy cola bottles. As someone who noshes a bang of Haribos in one library sitting when the going gets tough, this kind of night out suited me just fine. 

hot pink sadness

I just got back from a shift at my job in the cafe at a local gallery. I'm exhausted. There were lots of little old Grandmothers who looked sweet on the surface but instead were pernickety and vicious. That's not how Grannies are supposed to be. To pick myself up after a long Sunday, I'm wearing this hot pink jumper from H&M, my banana brooch and my friend Charlie is coming over to make a quiche with me and embark on Season 2 of Homeland. I've been holding out after binging on the first season over Christmas, so that we can watch it together.

In other news, my cat got put down this week (all that thinking about death..and then more comes) which really blows because he was absolutely ace. This big, fat pile of black fur and begrudging love, who would rarely let you pick him up without putting up a fight but would always come and seek you out and curl up for bedtime company. He also used to fart in my Stepdad's mugs of tea as a revenge tool which was personally one of my favourite things about him. He trotted like a pony and you could hear him coming down the stairs, his steps booming like human feet. Not everyone understands the whole cat grief thing but it really, really blows. Yesterday at work I accidentally sliced through the knuckle on my little finger on a broken mug. There was a lot of blood but that hurt decidedly less. There have also been nice things about this week, it hasn't been all doom and gloom, but it has been one to make me appreciate life when it runs smoothly and without pain.