Oh wow, hello strangers. I’m finally
putting pen to paper (I hand write all my articles before typing them up…call
me old fashioned) and getting to grips again with my own blog. It’s been so
long, that I have almost forgotten how to talk about myself. Almost.
Where have I been hiding? I hear you ask.
And the honest answer is nowhere particularly exciting, these past few months I
have spent getting to grips with the fact that I currently work full time
within retail, I am officially a slave to H&M, trying desperately hard to
save enough money to move comfortably to London (or somewhere around there),
where hopefully I will be living the dream that I have spent SO long fantasising
about.
I must admit, there have been times where
it seems out of reach, but thanks to a pep talk from a certain special Afro, I
am feeling more motivated than ever and am finally ready to get the ball
rolling.
OBSERVATION NO.1: Flats are bloody
expensive in the big city.
First Day Nerves |
I last left off telling you all about an
internship I was soon to be doing at LOOK Magazine…I know I am a little late,
but I feel it only right to share a few snippits of my experience with
everyone.
Firstly, I must point out and strongly
emphasise that my time with the mag was the highlight of my 2013. There has
been a lot of negative press recently surrounding placements and the fact that
they are often unpaid. I fully agree that this is an unrealistic expectation
money wise for most (working for free in the most expensive area of the UK is
certainly a challenge), not only this but often companies want you to work
(unpaid) for extensive periods of time which again, unless you are a
millionaire, isn’t feasible. It would be more reassuring if it was confirmed
that after serving your time as an intern, a job within the industry was yours
for the taking; but the truth of the matter is that you could essentially be a
slave to fashion for years before getting hired.
Having said all this and resigning myself
to the fact that getting to where I want to be isn’t going to be easy, my time
at LOOK Magazine proved to be more beneficial than I ever imagined.
Spot my name in the credits |
New Look Photoshoot |
During my time at LOOK my name, as well as
the other interns names were featured in the credits AND on relevant shoots,
which made us all feel really rather official; I have kept every issue and if I
were allowed, probably would frame them too! The team did inform us that the
novelty wears off after a while…
We also got the chance to feature in a
“Street style Ad, for New Look”, where we were given outfits by the stylists
and were thrown in front of the camera. It’s fair to say that posing is not for
me, I look more like a rabbit caught in the headlights, rather than resembling
any sort of natural beauty, but it was fun to see myself in the magazine.
The icing on top of the cake however, was
working as the Junior Assistant Debbie’s right hand man on the Fashion desk, I
got to be really involved with the production process and even got to write my
very first published advertorial. An amazing end to the best month ever.
Cake Friday with Charlotte |
Intern Team Doodles |
On top of this, I fell in love with
Charlotte and Isobel (the other interns), they were both beauts and made my
experience so much fun, singing to the radio, many a comical lunch break and
Cake Friday to name just a few. I was also reunited with my oldest and
“bestest” friend Emma, who was kind enough to put me up on a very extravagant
air bed for the month – special mention to her partner Terry who had to put up
with our antics.
I also turned 23, graduated with a First
Class Honours (finally!) and spent quality time with Matt.
It’s fair to say that November was the best
and most memorable month EVER!
You’ll be pleased to know that my rambling
is coming to an end (for now) but I would like to leave you with a new blog to
check out… www.CraveGreenVelvet.blogspot.com
My lovely friend Charlotte is an incredible stylist!
(Feel free to nose at my Fashion feature
writing too… http://hailstyle.com)
Over and out.
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