The Foot Ball

It's football season and contrary to possible beliefs - I am fully embracing these few weeks.  No I am not a huge fan of the game on a daily basis, but I am a fan of getting in the carnival spirit, watching some gripping competitiveness at the local pub (I miss the days of the karaoke-off that used to take place every weekend in St.Reatham) and most of all seeing some football where the name of the team still actually bears some resemblence to the players in it! 

It goes without saying that in any occasion- be it sporting, political, economic or otherwise, I will take the opportunity to find a fashion theme within it. The American elections gave me the perfect excuse to adopt a stars and stripes wardrobe-the red, white and blue of nautical chic combined with the hip hop / 80's combined trend of stars on any available bodily surface allowed me to fully embrace the occasion. With the UK elections parliamentary rosettes were translated into flower corsages, with the economic meltdown I adopted 'recession chic' which basically involved wearing very small clothes or bulk buying from Primark, Wimbledon always brings out the little, white summer skirts.  And this month, I officially announce the Foot Ball. Which is essentially a celebration (or Ball if you like) of all things foot-related. (if fact, anything from the foot upwards!)

Sparkle, lamé, pearls, lace, neon, wood, cork, beads, PVC, leather... all adorned upon perfectly pedicured with the English flag tootsies in a true celebration of the foot!  Add to that the thousands of themes that can be taken from the culmination of teams, players, countries participating in the world cup, and we are presented with the biggest and most exciting foot-fashion opportunity of all time! White knee socks, patriotic footwear (with matching bags of course), any African animal print going.. It's a pedi-carnival and I'm buying a float!  Bring on the Foot Ball!

Now, in my excitement and embracement of the sport, it has prompted me to delve a little deeper into the world of football and my research has brought to light some disturbing facts- possibly no revelation to most people, but to someone like me that naively thinks the best of most things until someone or something shatters my sparkly fairytale illusion, this has been a sobering (if such a word can be used at a time when I'm spending most of my time in the pub supping Prosecco) insight.  I discovered some shocking truths. 

1) Gone are the days when people supported their local team because they grew up with them, or their dads or their kids, or they worked in the same coal mines, drank in the same boozers and so on - when it was all about community and regional pride.  I have learned that nowadays some people even just 'pick a team' and that's all there is to it?!  Simple as that - eeny meeny miney mo... Sometimes they have never even been to the town that the team is named after, or even KNOW where the town is.  Ok, to be fair you can't fully blame the fans, especially as most of the players also have nothing to do with the town the team was named after either... but at least admit it, and stop pretending to believe that this has anything to do with anything other than money.  YES there are some skilled players about - but frankly if I was going to get paid a million quid a day for being skilled at something that I just happened to do all the time as a kid, and that was and still is lots of fun, - I'd be bloody skilled at it, believe me. Unfortunately dancing around to Aha with a gymnastic ribbon doesn't pay that much and frankly I can't be bothered to do anything more strenuous - I don't want a Hummer and a gang bang that much thanks.

2) There is a perception of football 'fannery' being hard, tough and manly.... yet in reality, footballers themselves are probably the most manicured, stroppy, diva-like, metrosexuals you could ever meet.  I know this - I have met many in my previous incarnation as a party organiser.  And I cannot believe how much of a mis-match there is between a real life footballer and a wannabe football 'hooligan'.  Sometimes I think the footballers don't get distracted by the bellowing chants of their fans, not because they are so expertly trained not to, but moreso because they are like dolphins... they can't hear noises that low.  Their delicate ears only pick up high pitched squeaks, like the ones their wives emit which are only marginally lower than their own....

3) I was amazed, when watching the Germans play the other day, to hear the commentator say "...and this is Cacau coming onto the pitch now.  He's only recently become a German..."   Ummmmmm - what so now if you don't like whatever nationality you are, or your team is shite, then you can just become from another country??! So Rooney can say 'sod you' to his England team mates and head off to join Brazil, and become Rooniño instead?  Well that just about closed the deal for me. 

I have come to the conclusion that the World Cup is fun, and the atmosphere is amazing, and the sudden patriotism that people develop out of nowhere is somewhat amusing, but I think that footballers should be put onto the minimum wage and then play the world cup, and I think it would be a whole different ball game (see what I did there?).  Football is a game made up of simple people who get paid far too much money- its like letting loose a colony of sex-addicted gorillas after giving them suitcases full of cash, some sports cars and a random selection of coke-snorting barbie dolls, and then sitting back to observe. Even the name is simple. "Foot. Ball." like some 3 year old literally said what it did on the tin and was hailed as a genius for coming up with such a word. Think of other sports- tennis, boxing, rugby, badminton .... Might as well call them 'Smack-with-Racket',  'Hit-People', 'Grab-Ball- and-Run' and 'Pointless-Load-of-Shit'
What is funny is that the Americans who actually do name every sport after what it does on the tin, chose soccer as the name for football. Which I actually think is a much nicer name for the sport.  Though I am probably giving them too much credit. In reality a meat-head jock most likely pointed at a footballers foot one day and went 'Sock. Urr.' (followed by a dribble - of the mouth kind, not the foot kind)' and that was how the name was borne.  Actually it wasn't even the Americans that came up with the name - (I just looked on Wikipedia) but what the heck, as blog-fodder the reality is boring, so I'll just make up whatever crap I want to!

And that's kind of all I have to say about the subject really.... a shorter post than the usual, but I'm loath to string out the subject any further, or change subject mid blog.  Plus I don't really know an awful lot more about football.  So I finish this with some of the stoopidest quotes about football, from footballers.....and then head to the pub for the next match.  By for now homies. xoxo

"Leeds is a great club and it's been my home for years, even though I live in Middlesborough."
Jonathan Woodgate

"He dribbles a lot and the opposition don't like it - you can see it all over their faces."
Ron Atkinson

"If history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same thing again."
Terry Venables

"They're the second best team in the world, and there's no higher praise than that."
Kevin Keegan

"I definitely want Brooklyn to be christened, but I don't know into what religion yet."
David Beckham

"I never wanted to leave. I'm here for the rest of my life, and hopefully after that as well."
Alan Shearer

"The minute's silence was immaculate, I have never heard a minute's silence like that."
Glenn Hoddle

"I never comment on referees and I'm not going to break the habit of a lifetime for that prat."
Ron Atkinson

"I couldn't settle in Italy. It was like living in a foreign country."
Ian Rush

"There are two ways of getting the ball. One is from your own team-mates, and that's the only way."
Terry Venables

"The first ninety minutes of a football match are the most important."
Bobby Robson

"The world looks a totally different place after two wins. I can even enjoy watching Blind Date or laugh at Noel's House Party."
Gordon Strachan

"My parents have been there for me, ever since I was about 7."
David Beckham

"I can see the carrot at the end of the tunnel."
Stuart Pearce

"I always used to put my right boot on first, and then obviously my right sock."
Barry Venison

"We haven't been scoring goals, but football's not just about scoring goals. It's about winning."
Alan Shearer

"We must have had 99 per cent of the match. It was the other three per cent that cost us."
Ruud Gullit

The finger and the pulse - an emotional reunion

In my previous existence I was something of an It Girl (that's It as opposed to IT btw...technology was never my strong point - see previous post).  I was always invited to the latest club openings, restaurants, parties and so on.  I would wear trends before they became trends, and was always well aware of the latest from the worlds of fashion, film, TV, media, entertainment and music.  I didn't really strive to achieve any of this - it just happened that my life was so entwined with the social scene, and because of my privileged job, I was professionally hooked up in the right circles too.  My generous salary allowed me to splurge on clothes, shoes, nights out, regular trips to glamorous destinations and every glossy magazine going.

Unfortunately my move to Switzerland and dramatic shift in demographic has meant the demise of my socialite status, and relegated me to someone that reads 6-month-old, German, second hand magazines in doctors' waiting rooms, hasn't bought a pair of shoes since last October (apart from a pair of very un-sexy, unfashionable 'comfy' boots to shield my once-weekly-pedicured feet from the Swiss elements)...  In short, my (once-weekly-manicured) finger has been rudely and dramatically torn from the pulse!  This has been a slow decline which I have thus far tried to ignore, but became glaringly obvious after it took 3 days for me to find out that Stephen Gately had died!  Previously I would have known he was going to die before even HE did!!  How could I have become so far removed?!!!

So, in order to combat this I have made it my mission to get back on the pulse (so to speak - sorry Stephen!).  This is not an easy task - living vicariously through websites, 2nd hand Grazia Magazines sent from my London friends, British TV ('enders doesn't exactly keep me up on date on fashion trends). There's no substitution for living, breathing and SPENDING in London.  However I made the unfortunate mistake of tuning into a TV programme about this year's Oscars fashion in a vain attempt to see what the Brits were wearing, and just to have a glimmer of that sparkly, red carpet feeling that I used to feel much closer to.  Needless to say apart from some 12 year olds from a dodgy vampire movie (you can't compete with the Lost Boys. RIP Corey) and Kate Winslet doing her annual "see, I don't always have to play the fat chick" speech there really weren't many Brits to catch up with, so instead I moved my focus to the Americans.  And OMG, let me tell you - 90210 has become my new WC1 - its all about Beverley Hills at the moment!  Who knew what a legend Jay Manuel is?  And who knew how quick and easy it is to get 450cc's of saline breast augmentation up through your belly button without so much as a pin prick in your boob area??!  Just ask Dr. Rey! This is all news to me and like a horrible car crash, or Joan Rivers' face, I can't tear my eyes away from it once I start watching.  The remedy?  Don't start watching.  Its a slippery slope and I came close to falling down it.  I rescued myself though, and have given myself a new project to run alongside my continuous job search and domestic goddess duties... its a secret though (mainly because if it all goes tits-up, crashes and burns, ends up being a flash in the pan... then you won't all be able to laugh at me.  Well you will, just not about this..) 

So, as I have banned myself from watching excessive amounts of Dr. 90210, Leave it to Lamas, Streets of Hollywood and so on... and I am restricted to only spending money on food and basic survival goods (like hairspray), and as I am unable to live in the circles that I once did, I have decided to share some of my innermost secrets with you on how you can live like an It Girl even if you are a poor, unemployed, out of touch nobody like moi....

1) Lip fillers:  You don't need collagen injections to achieve an Angelina pout!  My tip is this: over the course of the day, peel away a whole layer of skin from your lips (sometimes this is done voluntarily, other times it just comes naturally as you are rocking in frustration in front of your laptop searching even the armpits of the job market for some way to earn money)... and once you have a set of almost-bleeding, red raw lips just rub half a chilli over them.  They will swell up to at least double the size in seconds.  Slap on a layer of gloss (or if you can't afford it just stick your finger in some vegetable oil) and Bob ist dein onkel!

2) Hair extensions:  Upon close analysis of anyone with hair extensions, I have discovered that they really do just look like scraggy, untrimmed tendrils of matted hair.  Therefore the solution is simple -  just grow your own hair, don't wash or brush it for a few days and there you go!  And no ladies, I don't mean your armpits, eyebrows and moustaches ... just your head hair.  Unless you want to go for the Salma Hayek look in the film about Frida Kahlo...  As far as I am concerned there is no excuse for any woman, no matter how poor and destitute, to have any hair below the eyebrows unless it is virtually invisible or expertly 'topiarised' into a presentable fashion.   This is perfectly achievable and if you need instructions there are plenty of 'how to' guides on t'internet.

3) Parties and networking: Ok this one is easy - an It Girl is someone who looks, acts, walks and talks like an It Girl - nothing else!  No one needs to know that you spend most of your time in a tracksuit, shopping in Aldi, dodging the bus ticket inspectors & drinking Lambrini out of champagne glasses in your own time.... Appearance and demeanour is everything - and before you all laugh when I (of all people) say 'demeanour' just remember this:  When I was carried out of a party in a fireman's lift after drinking far too much champagne and literally jetting in just for that one night in the middle of 2 weeks on my feet with virtually no sleep, working between Germany, Switzerland and Israel, only to be SNEERED at by a (clearly NON It) girl, a good friend of mine (who was, is and will ALWAYS be an It Girl) told me "sweetie, that's the ONLY way to leave a party"...  I stand by that.  The fact that my fiance is actually a part-time fireman also means I can keep him in rescue-practice.  Therefore I am actually helping save lives.....!  Yay me!

4) Fashion:  I arrived in Switzerland in October - the beginning of winter.  Until now it has just been winter, winter and more winter.  This, combined with lack of finances, has not been conducive to me looking my best.  For the first time in my life I found myself opting for comfort and warmth over glamour and trend.  It has been a struggle.  I always imagined that if I was ever to 'hit the slopes' (that's a term that is quite literal in my case - I hit the slopes alright... face first!...) then I would be kitted out in a glamorous ensemble from Chanel.  In reality I ended up in shapeless age 13 boyswear from TK Maxx, a nerdy helmet and some special 'all weather' goggles.  Combine this with a frozen, red face and a permanent expression of fear - the whole get-up resulted in me looking like I'd just been shot out of a cannon in some bizarre circus stunt staged to amuse the designer-clad ski-bunnies of Switzerland.  I cannot tell you how pleased I am that spring seems to have arrived.  An It Girl only really requires a few staple items in order to maintain their look - a pair of Louboutin heels is a must, and mine are being dusted off as we speak.  Add to those a pair of oversized Fendi shades, an upside-down-head, volume-inducing blowdry, lashings of lipgloss and a bit of bling, and I'm back in the game!  Goodbye helmet-hair, goodbye 'comfy' shoes, goodbye hideous, freezing weather.

5) ...and finally:  Giving back to the community:  It is very important for It Girls to display a level of social responsibility.  I have pondered long and hard as to how I will do this as I have decided it is an absolute must in order for me to reclaim my It Girl tiara... and helping save lives by keeping my fiance in fireman's lift practice isn't really good enough.  Despite recycling my rubbish religiously I can't really claim to be doing an awful lot of good for the environment as I probably created the hole in the ozone layer singlehandedly through around 20 years worth of excessive hairspray usage.  I don't currently contribute financially to any charities (I can't!  I am too poor!  I AM a charity!).  So I am currently in search of a worthy way in which to give something back - all suggestions are welcome!  Answers on a postcard, or actually just post a comment.  Thanks!

I can't climb a mountain in my Louboutins....!

Yesterday I walked 14km - and part of it up a mountain....  Now - that in itself isn't a phenomenon - I'm used to hard exercise - usually in the form of a gruelling 1-hour hardcore session, 3 times a week with my personal trainer back in Streatham, who'd put me through my paces like a Royal Sergeant Major BUT in the comfort of my Virgin Gym, where there were no random deer staring at  me from the sidelines, or 80-year old men running (yes RUNNING) past me when I am half way up a steep mountain, thinking I'm on a par with Sir Ranulph Fiennes because I've managed to go a km without a snack.  Actually it was remarkably easy, and next time someone tells me they have climbed a mountain I'll be a lot less impressed than I used to be!

However, I am caught in something of a dilemma when it comes to 'dressing for the climb'..... I come from the school of thought that it doesn't do any harm to look the best you can when indulging in any activity - be it running, climing, bobsleigh, shot-put, sky diving, shopping or doing the housework... its ok to make an effort!!  One thing I have noticed since being here is that people (the women in particular) dress for comfort rather than fashion.  DON'T get me wrong - I know (now) that you can't climb a mountain in Louboutins (believe me though, if you could, I would...) and my wet-look leggings haven't made an appearance since I've been here.... but there is a happy medium and it is possible to be groomed, wear nice clothes and look feminine even if you are about to embark on a hike.  The men here manage to do it very well - they look great at all times, whether its in the office, in the pub, on the slopes or halfway up a mountain.  The Swiss Banker look (and salary) really does work - whatever the occasion, trend or season.  But the women just can't seem to get it right - you're either faced with BOBFOC (Body of Baywatch, Face of Crimewatch) when a tall, skinny chick with an amazing figure appears in front of you in a queue, and you're just starting to feel the heart-stabbing pangs of jealousy, and then they turn around and either have a face like Jimmy Saville on a bad day, or one that has been lifted so high that they must have had to get a 'hollywood' on their chin.... 

Either that or they just succumb to the housewife/frumpy/stay-at-home lifestyle and let themselves go to the point that when you do see them (albeit not very often) with the aforementioned banker husband, they look like they're the housekeeper allowed out on on a rare day away from scrubbing floors.  The funny thing is that I have never ever in my life seen so many hairdressers and beauty salons per square foot than I have here.... WHO GOES TO THEM?  Maybe the men?!  I finally realised why, (back in around 1990 when it was slightly popular among teenagers in the UK) there was suddenly a shortage of that awful 'cherry red' DIY hair dye which never really returned.  Did it die out forever?  Was it proven to be dangerously full of E numbers or chemicals?  Was it so unpopular that it couldn't sell (you'd think...)!  but no..... it was all being shipped over here!  To serve the women of Zurich for the next millennium....  and don't even get me started on the mullets.... .  I'd bet that you're as likely to see 'Red Mullet' here on a hairdresser's price list as you are in a seafood restaurant!

Luckily my impending unemployment has meant that I have avoided clothes shops for the most part, but a week or so ago (see previous post) it became prevalent that I was in dire need of a new black jumper so I had no choice but to venture out to find one.  I was aghast (but also relieved in the short term) to find that 'good quality affordable high street stores' do not exist here.  I had to choose between spending 2500 francs on a beautiful, perfectly cut, cashmere Chanel black polo neck, or going to BIG (yes this really is a clothes store - the male version being BIG BOYZ) for a misshapen equivalent that was made of a material that would have rendered me a fire hazard had I gone within a km of a naked flame.  It seems to be that the wealthy women of Switzerland (which is pretty much all of them) progress from wearing nothing but cheap tat and flammable acrylic until they hit 50 at which point they have so much botox that if they cracked a smile (not that many of them would) they'd split their face, and then make up for the years of not buying decent clothes by hitting the designer gear so hard that they adorn themselves in so much of it, all at once, at all times.....  It just is not attractive to see every possible logo, insignia and monogram draped on one person, all at the same time, who can barely walk because they are weighed down by the layers and lashings of gold, leather and fur, and whose husband has already run off with the secretary anyway - because even acrylic is more fetching than BOBFOC (as long as she's kept away from the fire)....

Now - don't get me wrong when I say the guys always get it right... Yes they seem to make more of an effort and generally know how to groom themselves to a higher standard, BUT white jeans, over-gelled hair, pastel over-the-shoulder sweaters and a serious air of arrogance and one-upmanship can be very off-putting.  Not to mention the fact that a Porsche here is as common as a red double decker bus in London and to be honest I'd rather be hopping onto a 133 bus in Streatham, knowing the only sacrifice would be £1 off my trusty Oyster card, rather than a mind numbingly boring journey to work with a mind numbingly boring, overly fragranced, hair-gelled-to-lego-head, pastel jumper wearing playboy whose only large appendage is his Gucci man-bag....

Needless to say, my initial fears that I'd arrive here, in my soon-to-be-unemployed status, to be the only female that can't afford to look good in a world of designer-dressed beauties, were short lived.  Beauty really is only skin deep, but moreso when the skin is one's own, and in the same (or thereabouts) part of the body that it was intended to be in......  Style on the other hand, is something that needs a bit more work in these parts of the world.  Anon...!