The English Snow

It's the 6th January and it's snowing unbelievably. The entire country has come to a complete standsill and I have never seen anything like it. I began to panic that I wouldn't be able to leave for New York trip as I watched the constant live feed on the news channels, broadcasting images of backed up traffic on busy main roads and with constant reminders that flights had been cancelled for the whole day.

I left for the airport at 2am and caught the coach with the rest of the people on my course down to Heathrow. I was completely exhausted but the icy roads and the occasional slip of the coach wheel kept my eyes firmly open.

We arrived at Heathrow and it was an uneventful check in and wait around in the airport. I was constantly aware that my eyes were going to drift shut at any moment and couldn't wait to get on to the plane. I couldn't keep still for very long as I watched the ominous board for news on whether our flight would be able to leave.

As I was sitting in the waiting area, talking to a fellow fashion student, I noticed that her eyes had got caught by the movement of something behind me. Something about her facial expression made me turn around to catch sight of a middle aged, platinum blonde woman with bee stung lips and an unmistakeable dress sense who was walking passed us.

Donatella Versace was being led by airport staff to board her flight to Milan undisturbed. I don't think even Ms Versace herself could have turned a blind eye to the row of gawping fashion students that stared and watched her every move as she walked by. I definitely don't think she could have missed the comment made by another girl that she was going to follow her, or the suggestion that they should run up and photograph her. I tried to disassociate but there was something about her clothes, her shoes and her presence that made me not be able to turn away.

Our flight was called and I was grateful to be able to get comfortable in the seats and prepare for some sleep. There was excited chatter and the swapping of plans of the best places to go to and things to see when we finally arrived in New York but I eventually drifted off to sleep.

I was awoken abruptly to an announcement over the plane's PA system that someone had checked in their luggage and then had not actually gotten onto the plane. The Steward explained that for security reasons, the bag had to be located and removed before the flight could take off. If I hadn't been so tired, I probably would have panicked at an announcement like that, especially after the recent difficulties over Christmas. As it happened, I was far too exhausted and promptly fell back to sleep again.

I assumed that everything had gone according to plan as I awoke a few hours later, still alive and flying over the Atlantic Ocean.

Off to New York

I am off to New York in two days for a retail research trip and my life as a fashion student is about to recommence. My brief: To firstly investigate all the aspects of retail within the US. I will need to look at visual merchandising, promotion tools, services and products in particular. When I get back to the UK, my brief is to make recommendations for UK retailers based on what I believe to be successful in New York.

The second think I will have to think about is launching an English brand into the US market. We have been given a list of companies to consider and my eye was immediately drawn to Toast and Mammas and Pappas. Previously working for Boden will I think give me the upper hand if I were to choose Toast, as I was working for Boden when they launched in the US. Toast, having a similar customer, style and attitude would launch in the US in a similar way so my inside knowledge would be invaluable. On the other had, I feel more passionate about the Mammas and Pappas brand which may also work to my advantage. I am going to begin to research competitors of both brands when I am in New York and decide which brand would be most appropriate to launch in the US market.

At the moment, my task in hand in preparation for the trip is deciding what to pack. I have been told with authority by numerous people that it is going to be really cold. They look at me with serious eyes when they tell me this, as if trying to make me feel the extreme cold they have experienced there. It is hard for me to quite understand, and I do find myself thinking that they may be slightly exaggerating.

My New York preperation purchase of the week has got to be my new panda ear muffs from Asos.com. Practical? Probably not, but I don't know it I will mind all that much when they look so cute. My practical purchase instead has been some Ugg style sheepskin mittens, paired with my faux fur coat and perhaps a secret pair of thermal leggings underneath my clothes and I think I should be ok. Cold weather? What cold weather?

Bunny Ears, Hear Here!

I am a huge fan of the bunny ear trend started by Louis Vuitton. What started out as playful decoration has now become a real wearable accessory. Topshop stock their own version of the bunny ears alongside the usual hair bands and slides.

Some say the trend should be left to the life of Madonna and Lady Gaga. I however, think there are much worse things in life than walking down the street in a pair of your own. I have worn mine out on a night and didn't receive any negative comments or funny looks. The world is ready for the big head pieces and I believe that bunny ears may be just the start.

The Belated Christmas Gift

It is now the 3rd January and the Christmas spirit is definately wearing thin. Its the day when the decorations have to start being dismantled and apparently, the day when most people give up on their new years resolutions.

As I was helping put the last branches of the synthetic tree back into its box and ready for next year, my eye caught on a small wrapped parcel right in the middle. It had no tag, and was an odd malleable texture with a solid shape in the middle. My Mum told me to open it with a smile on her face, apologising that it hadn't come in time for Christmas.

I pulled open the paper to reveal a grey velvet pouch with a drawstring top. My heart leapt as I recognised the gold writing emblazoned across the front and the familiar Vivienne Westwood orb logo underneath. I gently pulled open the drawstrings and allowed the crystal necklace to fall into the palm of my hand. It was the Westwood orb, covered with crystals and hung on a long silver chain. Out of habit, my eye searched the chain for the Westwood tag, the stamp of approval that would confirm what I already knew.

My hear sank when I realized it wasn't there. There was no designer tag, no stamp of approval. I couldnt understand it. It was seamless. The pouch was faultless and undoubtedly real, the orb itself was stamped on the back with the Vivienne Westwood signature, but something wasn't quite right about it.

I was about to tell Mum when I caught a glimpse of the look on her face. I could tell that she had no idea that the necklace was anything other than a real Vivienne Westwood. She had obviously done as I had done and checked for the signature stamp on the reverse of the orb and assumed that her money had been well spent. I decided that I couldn't tell her that I knew it was a fake and that got me thinking: is value added by the designer stamp or my the intention and sentimentality behind the gift?

A lot of thought had been put into the purchase of this gift and Mum had obviously gone out of her way to check it was not a fake. It is exactly the necklace that I admired earlier on in the year; completely oblivious to the fact that she had mentally added it to my Christmas list at the time. the crystals were real, it was real silver and undoubtedly expensive, and so is it any different to receiving a necklace that is a slightly different shape.

I do not condone intentionally purchasing fakes. I detest the industry behind copying and can spot a fake handbag instantly. It destroys designers and reputations and funds violence and organized crime. Louis Vuitton is one design that has been destroyed by the fakes that are so easily available. The amount of fakes promps anyone that is carrying a real handbag to be asked the question; 'is it real?'. However, the fact that the design is still successful shows that their designs are still worth copying. It is a catch 22 situation: A designer wants to be successful, and a successful design will undoubtedly be copied and faked.

With that in mind, I came to the conclusion that my Mum has obviously been duped without her knowledge. The thought that she has put into the necklace makes me want to wear it with pride. It is beautiful and sentimental to me and in a way, that is worth more to me than the real thing.

A Disastrous Start to the Year

I have always hated New Year celebrations. I believe them to be prescribed fun time; where everyone arrives at certain events with high expectations that can never be lived up to. Prescribed fun time also encompasses birthday parties, proms, balls and weddings but none of these irritate me as much as New Year.

I hate the moment of arriving at an event with the expectation that as soon as you walk through the door, you will be having fun. If you are hosting, I detest the awkward moment of the arrival of early guests expecting you to immediately provide them with the 'fun' they are hoping for.

My boyfriend and I had planned a New Year that was supposed to be just the two of us. We were going to go to a wine bar, stay until late and bring in the New Year with the calmed sense of composure that can only come from having initial low expectations. It was our first date in a long time so I decided to buy myself something special to wear and impress him. We have been dating for longer than I care to remember and are long past the stage of making an effort for each other.

I decided that this had to change and bought a pair of rather expensice and rather high shoes. I love irregular choice and enjoy the compliments and attention that comes from wearing them. They are a purple shoes boot with a spiral heel, 6 inches high and candy coloured laces that finish in elaborate bows. They are not to everybody's taste but for me, they show off my personality perfectly and immediately give me the sense of confidence that only a 6 inch heel can.

We arrived at the wine bar together and were turned away for not purchasing tickets. We wandered aimlessly around the town for a few minutes, deciding what to do with out night and eventually settled on an old English pub that a few of his friends were going to be in.

It was freezing cold inside, even with the cocophony of a throng of people pushing and shoving, desperate to be the next one to be served. There was a band in the corner of the room with a front man who was currently strutting like Jagger to 'Paint it Black', he was roughly the same age but with none of the class, style or poise. Like a car crash, my eyes were drawn to him with the knowledge that the image of him strutting would haunt me forever.

We made our way over to his friends and I settled into my usual shadow role, speaking briefly to the only other girl who was there. A painfully shy girlfriend, Kirsty, who had been dragged along with the promise of an amazing night, which ended up with her sitting alone and being ignored.

The drinks were flowing and I eventually relaxed into the awkward situation, deciding to sulk about my failed date at come other time. The band stopped playing and began the 10 second countdown to the New Year just as my boyfriend arrived back with a tray of fresh drinks for everyone. 12 glasses of Jägerbombs on a silver tray, in the middle of the table, waiting for us to begin 2010 with a bang. I stood up with everyone and unknowingly counted down my last few seconds of dignity. As the clock struck 12, I made my way over to my boyfriend for the traditional New Year kiss. At that moment, the stupid sprial heel of my left foot got caught in one of the stupid candy coloured elaborate bows of my right foot and there was nothing I could do but squeal as I tripped myself down to the floor. I caught the only thing that would stop me hitting my face which unfortunately happened to be the table. 12 glasses of Jägerbomb wobbled and slid off the silver tray and landed in the lap of painfully shy Kirsty.

I stayed on the ground and tried to make myself invisible as I heard the pandemonium that followed: the scream of Kirsty, the roar of laughter, the rush of waitress and Mick Jagger starting up Auld Lang Syne in the background. It was painful mentally, physically and emotionally and not the way I planned to start my 2010.

Lesson learned: Relying on beautiful 6 inch heels to bring you confidence, though good in theory, is ultimately a bad idea. This will end with the theory completely turning itself around and causing you extreme embarrassment as a direct result of said 6 inch heels.