Miss Media

My own personal emotional rollercoaster...

2010-05-19T02:19:00.000-07:00

Dear lord what a day I’ve had! The highs! The lows! The middle bits!! Seriously, I’ve had such a crazy spectrum of emotions today - I’m exhausted! I woke this morning to the sounds of Jo getting up to see Mike Leigh speak at the British Pavilion - I think she took one look at me and wrote me off completely - I wasn’t human this morning. Messy doesn’t even cover it. Unfortunately, it was at this time that disaster struck. Our hotel room needs the key to close the door properly (I know, weird huh? Europeans.) so Jo chirpily said ‘Don’t forget to lock the door behind me as I leave’ before prancing disgustingly cheerfully out the door. I, of course, mumbled something, snorted and turned over.

AND LEFT THE DOOR UNLOCKED!! NOT JUST UNLOCKED - OPEN!! WIDE OPEN!!! FOR 2 HOURS!!

I’m lucky I wasn’t killed in my sleep! To be honest, the way I felt when I woke up made me wish that I had been (wine + champagne x 20 over 8 hours = uuuuurrrrrrggggg……)

But the worst part is that it appears that while I was blissfully snoozing away, someone CAME INTO OUR APARTMENT AND STOLE MY IPHONE!!!! And the charger - these thieves are no fools!

I’M PHONELESS!!! IN CANNES!!! WHY DIDN’T THEY JUST CUT OFF MY OXYGEN SUPPLY?!?! TAKE MY LIVER!! TAKE MY KIDNEYS!! JUST GIVE ME BACK MY PHONE!!!! IT HAS MY LIFE ON IT!!!!

So many contacts. Phone numbers. Emails. Gone.

I could cry. I really could.

So now I’m incontactable. In Cannes.

This. Is. A. Disaster.

I managed to scrap myself together in order to go to my lunch meeting with a friend from PR agency DDA at Long Beach Restaurant and then on to the British Pavilion to see our BFI contact as I knew he would have been trying to get in touch with me. He’s so lovely. Turns out I had even more reason to love him - he’d managed to score me a ticket to one of the hottest premieres of the festival!! The much coveted, much feted Stephen Frears production of Tamara Drewe, starring the actress of 2010 Gemma Arterton!! It was like a drug deal. He palmed me something and told me slyly to slip it into my bag. Then I ruined the coolness of the moment by hugging him (he's 6 foot 7 - I'm 5 foot 4. It was an awkward moment).

Then, I panicked. It started in an hour and a half and I wasn’t dressed for a premiere!!! I only had the vintage dress we’d bought in our ‘perfect Cannes outfit for under £50’!! I said a breathless goodbye (and thank you - my mamma raised me polite) to Nick and rushed off into the setting sun, hustling down La Croisette desperate to find a cab, get back to the apartment and jzoosh myself appropriately for my red carpet appearance and be back, striding down that red carpet, all withing an hour!

Yeah, that didn’t really work.

Picture me running (ok, it was more of a totter - I was in my Kurt Geiger heels!) down the main stretch of Cannes, madly waving at every moving vehicle and swearing violently under my breath at each one that didn’t stop. For 35 minutes. I finally had to admit defeat. I wasn’t going to be able to get home, wasn’t going to be able to change, wasn't going to be able to glam myself appropriately. And I was, in fact, sweatier and less attractive than I was when I set out from the British Pavilion over 40 minutes ago. Bloody marvellous.

I took stock. I had my £12 light blue silk vintage dress and a pencil of black eyeliner. I inhaled a deep breath and strode off in search of a bathroom.

I battled, I cursed, I sprayed water in my hair and let it dry upside down. I stroked, and smudged, and smeared.

I looked like a mad woman. A woman possessed. Other women coming and going in the bathroom looked on with equal measures of amusement and distaste. I was the woman I never wanted to be. The bathroom jzoosher.

But a fearful 15 minutes later I strode out, transformed (relatively speaking). I was ready.

And guess what?? I actually got papped by more cameras than when I was in my full evening gown two nights ago! I got asked where my dress was from (I lied through my teeth of course - ‘oh, this old thing? Hmmm….I think I got this positively years ago at Dior…or was it Givenchy? I can’t possibly remember my dears!’)

…..course, they might just have papped me for the ‘Worst Dressed’ photo montage in OK Magazine…..

Regardless, I was there. I strode down the red carpet fearlessly, head held high with an smile plastered on my face that hinted toward lunacy (I hope I pulled off eccentricity instead - much more glam).

Keep tuned to You Tube (yes we will get something new posted on there! I’m on a mission today) for my review of T.D. as well as a few other amusing bits and bobs we’ve managed to film over out crazy, mad week here in Cannes!

I can’t believe we’re going home tomorrow. I might cry.

Lots of love, panicked bathroom moments, red carpet victories and flashes of paparazzi photographers,

Zxxx

Tee Hee (or should I say Pee Hee)

2010-03-26T10:17:00.000-07:00

My boss is widely acknowledged to be one of the most important men in the media world. I love him dearly because he kind, generous and lets me go home early/leave for auditions/take time off for filming, often with as little as a few hours notice. He is also tremendously funny with a list of terrible jokes longer than my arm. In short, we get on like a house on fire.

So, I begin to wonder whether the line of professionalism begins to become blurred when your boss, about to make his way home for the weekend, stops by your desk and says:

Him: *big sigh*

MM: What?! Stop sighing by my desk. (I'm quite cheeky like this at work - one of my many, many charms)

Him: I've got a huge decision to make. *looks very worried*

MM: Oh dear, what is it? (We've been doing some pretty hard core work recently on various things so this kind of declaration immediately makes me think 'Christ, what have we got to do now?!')

Him: I've got to decide whether I can make it home or whether I should take a wee now.

MM: ...........uh................

This is the man who controls one of the largest media-based companies in the UK. And he's asking my advice on his urinary habits.

*sigh* Sometimes my job is so glamorous!

A Lesson to the People

2010-03-24T07:34:00.000-07:00

THIS IS HOW YOU EARN MY LOVE!!!! Mr F - if I am ever relegated the task of being the next Noah you are TOTALLY on my ark.

PS I had intended to take the photo before eating it but it had CREAM CHEESE FROSTING!! I defy you to have resisted in my position.

PPS The white thing perched precariously on top is the remains (literally!) of a teeny icing skeleton. Halloween may have been 5 months ago but Mr F refuses to let it die, bless him!!

MMx

Alexander McQueen - the Death of a Legend.

2010-02-11T08:24:00.000-08:00

The couture world will be in shock as news breaks that Alexander McQueen, a staple to the contingent of quirky and original British fashion, is found dead in his home (roughly half an hour ago).

Always original, independent and fresh, McQueen's creations will certainly be missed but I suspect only half as much as the man himself.

He leaves behind him a legacy of beauty balanced with strength, originality and forceful design.

There is unlikely to be a fashion talent quite like him, not in this generation, nor in the next.

Rest in peace Mr McQueen, 'Les Enfant Terrible' of the fashion world.

Sarah Palin - The Mind Boggles

2010-02-09T10:38:00.000-08:00

Sarah Palin, I always knew you were an idiot but I didn't think you were THAT special. As a public service to mankind, mammals, reptiles, primates, arachnids, crustacea, mollusks, annelids....aw heck, to all vertibrates, invertibrates and inanimate objects - please, please go live in a cave in Alaska. Do NOT appear on television, give any more interviews to newspapers or even blog/twitter - you clearly have no grip on reality and even less of an understanding of politics. Just go away. You make my eyes and ears bleed.

Sarah Palin's 'Palm Pilot' notes - BBC Article

Ahhhhhh......purge over. I feel clean again.

MMx

What a difference a day makes....

2010-02-05T10:06:00.000-08:00

Well blog-ites, may I just say THANK GOD!!! The dark clouds over my head have seemingly sailed over the horizon, taking with them the desire to stab myself in the eye repeatedly with a rusted fork. Huzzah.

And not a moment too soon. January sought to crush my soul beneath its inexorably boot of hardcore full time work followed by a hectic audition/filming schedule, parental visits, boozy shennanigans and general floozy behaviour inherent to/in reaction of the above. But today I feel I've turned a corner. Maybe it's the cautious re-emergence of sunshine into the rain-washed London streets. Maybe it's the fact that it hit TEN DEGREES CELSIUS today!! Or maybe it's just that it's Friday and the weekend stretches before me like a beautiful dream of free time. You see, my filming for this weekend has been rescheduled!!! That means....*gasp*....FREE TIME?!?!?! THAT MEANS SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND TIME TO READ WITH CUPS OF TEA IN BED!!!! AND YOGA AND HAIRCUTS AND PUB DRINKS WITH FRIENDS TO WATCH THE ENGLAND/WALES GAME (a tricky line to walk - friends on both sides)!!!!!!

I think some things are best demonstrated by pictures of animals. Please see below for details.

Aaaaaaaahhhhh.......Fridays. Smell that?? It's the taste of freedom.

RUN CHILDREN!!! RUN!!!!! RUN SHREIKING INTO THE SUNSHINE!!!!!!

MMx

Paper Heart Cut-Outs - Zoe Bradley, the New Queen of Origami

2010-02-03T10:51:00.000-08:00

I stumbled across this picture in my daily meanderings in the fabulous world of the internets and was so floored by what I saw that I immediately got on my google pony and found out as much a I could about the creator of these pieces of fabulousness - Zoe Bradley.

Lately of Alexander McQueen, she has been working her magic on an impressively global scale having done shop fronts for everyone from Harvey Nichols in London to Missoni in Milan to Lane Crawford in Hong Kong - the girl gets around! But her globetrotting is well warranted when one casts an eye over her spectacular pieces, as beautiful for their intricacy and detail as for their gorgeously structural silhouettes.

Here's some more eyecandy for you!

I love the 1950's Dior influences in these two - just gorgeous!!...

And finally, my Cinderella wedding dress

In short, I want them all...erm....minus the papercuts!!

MMx

(Wolf) Whistles for Roksanda Illincic

2010-01-29T06:09:00.000-08:00

Roksanda my dearest, my love, my muse - you have picked up your game remarkably! The flowerly adjectives escape me at present but if I had more than two brain cells to rub together on this Friday afternoon (don't get me started on my week!! 7 AUDITIONS + FULL TIME WORK + PARENTS FLYING INTO TOWN = exhausted Miss M with a bad back from sleeping on the ricketty fold out sofa) I would wax lyrical about this collection. True flashes of inspiration with flashes of a revolution against Spring/Summer lightweight materials and detailing - her embellishments are large, geometric and ultimately almost hypnotic, but not at one moment are they too heavy for this collection. And with names like celadine and milkweed - what's not to love?!

My two favourites:

MMx

Very Very Vera!!!

2010-01-27T09:04:00.000-08:00

My new Vera Wang slip dress is so lovely it just makes me want to cry! I know it doesn't look like much in the picture below but in my head it's teamed with silky summer dresses, tank dresses, big chunky leather belts and chains - so versatile! So many options!! HOW TO CHOOSE?!?!?!

And I just know that it will look brilliant with my Marc Jacob wedges (http://missmediaandtheredcurtain.blogspot.com/2009/10/for-love-of-marc.html)

Ahhhhh....I'm such a happy little chicken right now!!!

MMx

Susie Bubble, j'adore

2010-01-27T08:54:00.000-08:00

Boy can this girl layer!! Her style is so beautiful in it's quirky awkwardness - I just love her. It doesn't hurt that she knows more about the ins and outs of fashion than most other fashion bloggers combined. See more here:

http://www.stylebubble.co.uk/style_bubble/2010/01/longer-but-not-lither.html

So this amazing boustier-style dress on top is from Stretsis dress and is layered over a beautiful Margiela skirt. And the shoes!!! Don't get me started on those shoes!!! (They're from Acne by the way). Just love. Love love love. *swoons with over-excitement*

Think I have a bit of a style crush!!!!

MMx

Li-Lo Sourcing Child for Adoption?

2010-01-14T10:41:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This is me at my bitchiest!! But in my defence, this girl has annoyed me for so damned long and this is the straw that broke my back!!

---------

So, it has just been revealed that Lindsay Lohan, that beacon of hope and charity in a world spiralling into decay, has been commissioned to front a BBC3 documentary (Blakeaway Productions) exposing child sweat shops and prostitution in India.

Oh, come on.

Let's be realistic here. Lindsay, who is best known for exposing herself to ridicule (not to mention exposing her nether-regions on more than one occasion) is now trying to recast herself as humanitarian and philanthropist?! I'd sooner believe that Russell Brand and Katy Perry are going to live a life of marital celibacy!

Lohan, listen up. I'm sick of this and I have to say, I'm a little sick of you. You've blown it. You were given a peach - childhood success, movie roles other actresses (myself included but definitely no sour grapes here!) would kill for and you buggered it right up. Rehab should have been made mandatory and permanent for you, my dear. For all of you who think I am being a little harsh, let me apologise. I mean no disrespect to 'Li-Lo' or her hoards of compatriots who insist on drowning themselves in booze and drugs, fling themselves out of clubs with underwear exposed then decide to play on the viewer's sympathy in an utterly transparent bid to win back loyalty and respect. But I come from a line of actresses who actually like to WORK. Who respect the system and how it's played and above all, who don't do it for the fame and celebrity but because they couldn't imagine a life without getting on that stage or in front of that camera to channel real emotion and reflect real life. I genuinely feel sorry for you - at the grand old age of 23 you've managed to screw it all up.

So please, go to India, try to squeeze out the requisite tears as you face some of the most incredible poverty in the world. Perhaps before you go you can follow in the venerable footsteps of fellow headline-grabbers and snag yourself a bouncing baby all of your own. By all means, visit child sweat shops (which, by all accounts is like sending an alcoholic to a brewery).

Just pick up a quick knock-off Fendi on your way through, and don't expect me to be watching.

Will Ferrell and Pearl the Landlord

2010-01-08T05:39:00.000-08:00

Will Ferrell, you make me laugh all day long. Pearl the Landlord - I just want to pick you up and cuddle you, you crazy alcoholic!! Or at least share one of your four beers with you. Give me a call.

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/74/the-landlord-from-will-ferrell-and-adam-ghost-panther-mckay

The Christmas Season and Subsequent Procrastinations

2009-12-22T09:08:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting at my desk not working.

That's right.

I'm on strike.

...well as much as you can be when you're actually at work sitting at your desk. But I'm distinctly not doing any work. No, that would make it too easy for them. Instead, I am reading all my favourite blogs and attempting to stiffle the subsequent sniggering. Just for the fun of it, and to spread more gleeful sniggering around the globe (or to the collective 3 people who read this blog, poor sods), here are my top 4:

1. Liberty London Girl
An obvious choice, her view of the world, while rarely involving anything sartorial, is delightful. Reading her blog makes me feel as though I'm part of her family/world/co-adopter of the beagle puppies. Gives me a happy.

2. What Possessed Me
Damn, this girl is FUNNY! Totally wry, off the wall humour that has made me snort into my coffee cup more times that I would like to admit. One classy operator.

3. StyleBubble
This chic can mix fashion and observation like no one else. Totally brilliant and my main go to for getting in on the ground floor of new and spectacularly quirky designers around the world. Awesome.

4. The Sartorialist
I know. Totally cliche now but that's not his fault now is it?? I don't give up my blog addictions just because the blogger becomes famous. Oh no, I become unbearably smug in the knowedge that I loved him before he was popular. Ahhhhh, smug satisfaction.

Well this certainly was fun and ate up some of the time before I could legitimately clock off.

Thanks for watching.

MMx

StyleBible Pre-Christmas Bash

2009-11-26T11:38:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I'm taking this opportunity to vent about last night. Every now and again I make the supreme effort to look Glam on a Wednesday night in order to go out, mingle and mix and generally be fabulous in the city so it was with high expectations that I prepared for StyleBible's Pre-Christmas party. Held in the newest private members club on the beat 'Eight' at Moorgate (confusingly, for my dearest J, not actually at No. 8 Moorgate Rd - an address that lead her to despair last night, rattling the chains that ominously locked the door of this totally unrelated property - not so confusing for me as I'd been to the press opening party a few months back), StyleBible's bash should have been wonderful. It had all the ingredients of a glamorous location, catwalk and vintage areas, manicurists and faux eyelash application experts on hand to make one feel fabulous and pampered. And yet. When I arrived with B and J the staff seemed so baffled by the guest list that we had to explain several times that yes, we are on the list and no, we don't need to buy a ticket - really quite embarrasing!! We also had to try and round up a member of the StyleBible team to get a hold of the little white tag that entitled us to a goody bag (which were admittedly pretty good - I'm a big fan of my new Tatty Devine acrylic Gilbert and George necklace!)

and believe me - StyleBible's people were hard to track down! When we eventually managed to corner one and pry three tickets from her little paws they were down to the last goodie bag! We crouched in the corner like ravenous thieves dividing up the loot, pawing through the remaining spoils. There were people who actually bought tickets to this event that didn't get the promised bags! They had 100 gift bags for an event they had sold 200 tickets to. Not good. But for me, the absolute kicker was the fact that there was no complentary alcohol!!!! Let me clue you in StyleBible - if you want me to buy more beautiful things than I can possibly afford the absolutely foolproof way of doing this is to stick some free champers into my hand! I'll start swiping my credit card through anything after the third glass!! I'M EASY!!! A SURE THING!!! JUST GET ME DRUNK AND I'LL REMORTGAGE TO GET MY HANDS ON THE PRETTIES!!!

So after two hours of mingling with a few incredibly pretentious people, drinking our £11 glasses of champagne (admittedly Tattinger) and realising that the two rather dishy men we were talking to were actually total liars (they insisted that they owned race horses, were 'very rich' (I mean, really!) and were from Newcastle only to later say they were from Wales and looked totally panicked when B, who is welsh, started talking to them about Wales) and waiting for manicures that were eventually timed out because the line was so long, we decided to cut our losses and find somewhere else to have our parting drink. Well.....Good intentions, lousy follow-through - ended up at Catch in Liverpool Street with a group of Canadian gold traders who plied us with Laurent-Perrier until I thought I would float away on a cloud of bubbles at 3am - so a satisfactory end to the evening after all. Especially as I now have a date with one of them next week!

MM x

Tinternet Dating - will it bite me in the posterior?

2009-10-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

I'm a little bit nervous. I have my first ever internet date tomorrow.

It has taken months of verbal barrage from my nearest and dearest for me to even consider this rather extreme course of action. It could have been the way I would say yes to any bloke who worked up the guts to ask me out, or the way I started throwing my number at men I was barely interested like the Midsummer Queen on parade day, but for whatever reason those I love and respect the most decided I needed help. Serious help. Internet help.

For me, internet dating has always had a kind of aura about it, a lingering scent of the unrequited, the lonesome-heart-esque; single, (desperate) and datelessness. I know that times have changed rather drastically since internet dating began, that now it is a genuine and respectable way for single people who are either surrounded by married couples with no single friends left, simply too busy with work, or are completely over the whole 'get drunk, make out with a stranger on the dancefloor who I'll go home with and then have to do the walk of shame home the next morning in my stockings and wait for you to call me' kind of dating in the city that at best results in a few awkward dates and at worst some kind of venerial disease (I'm not speaking from personal experience on the last part of that but I've heard things on the street about how these things go down). So when my friends suggested I try a particular website (and no, I'm not going to tell you which one) I submitted with only the smallest of cringes and lamentations of how incapable I now seem to be of enticing a man face to face.

I ummed, I ahhed, I made obligatory sounds of discomfort as my friend and I, with the help of a large bottle of red (she wasn't drinking that evening), wrote my profile and selected my picture. S very kindly had her graphic designer boyfriend photoshop out the drunk man behind me in my selected photo (we felt it gave the wrong impression....or possibly just too accurate an impression) - he seemed amused by the entire process but was kind enough to do it anyway. So there we were. Locked and loaded (or at least I was after consuming the entire bottle of red by myself). Confirmation email and I was in the system. And free to browse the proffered men for myself!

What a pleasant surprise it was to find so many men with whom I would have no problem dating in real life. Yes, there were a slightly larger number of guys who looked as though they had never seen the light of day and possibly still lived with their mothers at the age of 42, but I was pleased to find at least 10 men in my first foray that I could quite happily click to 'my favourites' list. And how gratifying the next day at work to be bombarded by emails from the website to announce that I had likewise been added! (There is little better than a bit of ego-stroking early on a Friday morning when the only thing keeping you for running out into the sunshine and the weekend is a cup of delicious, delicious coffee.)

So here I am, a mere 18 hours from meeting M (a rather dishy financial analyst from Camden). And I am sweating bullets. What if he sees me, thinks my picture was much, much too flattering (it was a very good picture from my recent holiday to Greece - hence all sun-bleached blonde hair and bronzed, healthy looking skin)? What if he doesn't like me? Or worst of all, what if he doesn't even turn up?!?!?!

In seconds, I am reduced from confident, professional actress and media ................ to the spotty teenager who was too nervous to ask out the guy two doors down from me who I had been in love with for the last 3 years. Yikes. Reality shock.

Deep breath. Carpe Diem, be in the now, bull by the horns and other such things that are supposed to help but really don't.

Well, wish me luck. And if you see a slightly nervous, slightly lost-looking and slightly overdressed woman at Borough Markets tomorrow morning, spare me a thought and send some good juju my way. I'm going to need it.

For the love of Marc

2009-10-09T05:26:00.001-07:00

I purchased these Marc by Marc Jacob Wedge sandals on Brandalley for an absolute bargain - reduced from £219 to just £61 (including postage!). With their classic lines with modish heel details I just know I'll be wearing these for many summers to come.

I'm toying with the idea of incorporating a Burberry Prorsum 09/10 look by wearing tan, ever so casually scrunched ankle socks with them to transition them into Autumn/Winter. It seems such a waste to have got them now with only the occassional crisp sunny day to allow them out!

Any thoughts anyone?

MMx

I love this kid

2009-09-29T09:54:00.001-07:00

http://www.27bslash6.com/slyseb.html

NAIL GLORY!!!

2009-09-11T04:39:00.000-07:00

I am in love with my new nail colour. *

I realise that I haven't posted for a while and as a result this statement seems a little out of the ordinary but I really truly love this nail colour. I have no idea what it's called or what the brand is (much to my chagrin) as I got them done at the complementary manicure bar at Vogue's Fashion Night at Banana Republic last night but I am sold on the whole nail polish thing. I have never been able to keep nail polish on and faced with the hassle of having to remove the damned stuff 24 hours after laboriously painting it on over the course of an agonising 3 hour time frame after every single nail starts to chip I have never really bothered with it much. But I really think that this colour has change my perspective and thusly my life. Already I can see the difference in how I hold myself and go about my day. Rather than simply order my sandwich at Charlicks deli, when asked for my selection this afternoon I waived my arms about, gesticulating wildly and practically screamed at the poor man "I'll have the SALMON!! With some LIGHT CREAM CHEESE and some CAPERS if you don't mind!!" in a ridiculously posh voice. I think I simultaneously gave him a heart attack and poked the woman behind me's eye out. For a few minutes I couldn't figure out what had possessed me, for a possession it is. My personality has been transplanted with that of a pompously posh camp cabaret singer cum opera diva. Then I figured it out.

It's the nail polish. I will name the shade Diva Rouge and hunt every aisle in every store until I find the exact hue and buy a dozen bottles.

Confidence and panache in a bottle? Who couldn't use a bit more of that?

*Note: my fingers never seemed that stumpy in real life.

Ascot Preparations

2009-06-12T11:13:00.000-07:00

12th of June, 2009

In a week’s time I will be arriving in luxury bus glory to that venerable highlight in the social calendar year, Royal Ascot. This year, several of my nearest and dearest have banded together to hire a beautiful bus stocked with champagne and chocolaty goodies in order to avoid the hassle of public transport (there is nothing worse than arriving at the Royal enclosure perspiring and dishevelled. The looks that the gate keepers give you could shatter diamonds into pieces).

Transport, however, is only a minor hurdle in comparison to the mountainous task that is before me this weekend. The Outfit. I have booked in two marathon-like days complete with itineraries of the must-hit shops and boutiques. First on the agenda is Beyond Retro in Great Marlborough Street (if you see a crazed girl ripping through racks of 1950’s prom dresses and scrabbling wildly through the hat stands please stand back and do not make any sudden movements. If we are reaching for the same a particularly beautiful fascinator in an oyster hue please accept my apologies in advance, I will reimburse you for all emergency room costs). This icon of vintage shopping is one of my favourite places to go in London. Sometimes I’ll find myself there without ever having consciously planned to go shopping. I’ll just come-to within its subterranean depths idly stroking a red velvet riding jacket, or sliding my feet into a pair of bright yellow satin pumps. It has the appeal of your mother’s closest and jewellery drawer as a little girl, secrets promised within with new things to discover every time.

So standby for my next update, hopefully complete with pictures of me victorious in my perfect Ascot-esque outfit!

Frustration in Film

2009-06-12T03:51:00.000-07:00

12th June, 2009

Last night I got screwed and not in the good way. Although my primary source of income is as a …………. in the media industry, I also do a bit of acting. The first pays in cash, the second nourishes my soul (but is conspicuously monetarily challenged).

The whole story:

So I got a role as a reporter in a feature that is being submitted to the Black Hollywood Film Festival in LA - pretty happy. Then three days before filming I contract a bacterial infection in my glands that puts me in hospital (and a subsequent body suit) for two days straight (still in body suit now). They send me date/time of filming at midnight the night before. Feeling quite frankly like I could die. Regardless I get up in the morning and head out to another audition that I'd already set up (filming is scheduled for the afternoon). Still feeling like I could die but struggle to audition. Call both audition people and filming people to see if one of them can do Sunday instead as doing both audition (in the sticks) and filming (in Shoreditch) seems impossibly Everest-like. Neither budge. Internal sigh then I suck it up and get to audition, do audition, leave audition and trek to Shoreditch where I meet a friend to while away the hours in Hoxton Square with nibblies and papers. Call half an hour before call time to check it's going ahead. They say yes, come now. So I get up, they call to say, no wait. I sit back down. Half an hour later I call again, they say they're running behind schedule (big surprise), can they shoot my scene tomorrow. I say, ok. I go home (I live in South London). Next day call to say when do they want me, they say 9pm. 7pm I call to make sure shooting is going ahead, they say not today. They'll call me to get me in sometime that week. Two weeks later, multiple emails/texts/voicemails on my side - their side nada. Last night finally text back saying and I quote "MM we are in LA. We have finished shooting. As you couldn't make it on Sat we readjusted the schedule. We really wanted you for the role but you said you couldn't make it on Sat morning. Regards etc".

WHAT ARE THESE PEOPLE SMOKING?!?!?! GRRRRRRRRRRR!!! I don't know how I could have been more accommodating.

And that's how the little blonde girl from Sydney got screwed by the film makers of London town. A cautionary tale indeed.

The Train to Liverpool

2009-06-06T12:02:00.000-07:00

22.05.09
I’m currently sitting on a train whisking me rapidly toward Liverpool, home of those behemoths of music history, the Beatles. For some reason, when I was regaling everyone with what I thought were rather spiffy long weekend plans, the first question to leave every single person’s lips when told the destination was invariably ‘Why?’. And that, I think is one of the most permeable differences between a person born in a particular country, and one living there on a less permanent basis. Particularly when the conversation involves going anywhere other than London for a long weekend, at least within the borders of the UK. Even the spattering of native Liverpudlians among my acquaintance seemed almost horrified at the thought of me exiling myself to the cultural wasteland that apparently is Liverpool. I’m unsure as to whether I should be worried by this or not. Nevertheless, it is far too late now. A friend of mine who works within the music industry approached me a few weeks ago with a proposal. She was covering the Liverpool Soundcity festival for work and said that were I to come along she would procure for us press passes for the event. If there is one thing that I never turn down, it is the chance to see the inner machinations of the culture industries. I’m not really fussed as to which industry it is, whether music, fashion, film or tv; I find them all equally fascinating. And they inevitably supply wonderful opportunities to watch would-be celebs and on the odd occasion, the real deal celebs, in their natural habitat.
So off to Liverpool I go. 3 hours in a train is softened ever to slightly by the rather dishy young thing sitting opposite me. Lord knows it would be incredibly rude of me not to offer him a glass of my rather lovely New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, wouldn’t it? And I’m nothing if not polite.

Genesis

2009-05-08T11:18:00.001-07:00

As the title implies, this is the beginning. The first post of my new blog which I hope will afford you some kind of entertainment as I grapple my way through the hectic life I lead in the media industry in the great capital of culture that is London.
Now, I’m not claiming my life is a constant rollercoaster of premieres, parties and air kisses, although there is a definite element of that as part and parcel of my job in the media industry. For the most part I struggle with the daily things like everyone else. Work, men, friends, family, sometimes even the smallest task, like getting up in the morning bemoaning my lack of anything even resembling fashion that I can wear without looking like a leper who dresses in a dark closet, seems to be an almost insurmountable mountain instead of the molehill that it would appear to be to many other (some would say ‘normal’) people. In any case, I hope that my foibles and faux pas give you a giggle at the very least. After all, at the end of the day you can really only laugh at yourself, right?

Hopefully loud enough to drown out the tittering coming from everyone else.