Lipfinity pens - they last

What, you may ask ,has Mrs Glamourpuss  been doing?Has she fallen into a pit awash in highstreet garments made of unfortunate synthetic fabrics? Or has something more sinister happened? Has she been silenced by a gang of bored young sales girls accustomed to doling out poor service like over-priced popcorn? The truth is naturally more tedious. In short Mrs Glamourpuss like so many working women is just tired. Work, cooking, cleaning and proffering trays of minced pies and a cheerful smile to all and sundry is lamentably dull – but necessary. During the festive season we eat until we are sick, shout at family members we love and send everyone we can even dimly remember a card with glitter on it.  Such fun.  And so glad it is all behind us.

 MId-January is the most earnest yet oddly frivolous of seasons. The time when we try to maintain resolutions and think wildly about wearing high-heeled  sandals and tiny swimsuits. To that end, let me suggest you do something entirely pleasurable. Buy a lipstick. Really. It’s easy. It’s quick. It’s gratifying. And it will not break any of the traditional New Year’s resolutions. After all, most of us do not promise to avoid mouth colour. We may wish to keep our mouths shut for a variety of reasons. But that is a different matter. So. get out there and find the mouth of your dreams – your own!

Mrs Glamourpuss recomends:

Maxfactor Lipfinity Lasting Lip TInt

It’s an odd that inexpensive brands give their products strangely long names. Does one like a lipstick better because it takes longer to say? Perhaps we do. The Lipfinity Lasting LIp Tint (LLLT?) from Max Factor has such a name. But it’s fun and costs little more than a few hours of parking. 04 (they let themselves down with the name of the shade ) is a tantalising berry colour – but I also noticed a wonderful red. Perfect for one’s daughter, the Imp. The shades are bright, true and long-lasting. Use Carmex or Burt’s Bees nice lip balm at night.

Filed under: Bargains, Beaty, Beaty products by Mrs Glamourpuss
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Mrs Glamourpuss is rather thrilled. She has an invitation to an NHJ event. For those of you who

A Reiss dress. Could it be right for me?

have been asleep for the past ten years or living on a desert island with a rather dishy actor who has a drug problem, NHJ Style Consultancy is a leading team of stylists based in London. When I say leading, what I really mean is clever but fun and also practical. They know their Stella McCartney knits from their J-Brand jeans, but they’re not afraid to suggest Gap if they think the jeans might be right for you. They have a knack for helping people make more of themselves. They are gentle, but honest; firm but fair. And, I have to say,  I’m hoping some of their easy glamour rubs off on me on Novemeber 8, the date I’m attending one of their body shape workshops at Reiss. Not only do I get information on dos and don’ts, but I’ll also be getting a 10% discount at Reiss and some face time with one of the stylists! Oh and did I mention the champagne and canapés?

Such fun. And such a reasonable price.

Do come – so much more fun than a drinking overpriced cocktails in a dark bar. Well, at least on a girl’s night out anyway.

Filed under: Body type workshops, NHJ Style Consultancy by Mrs Glamourpuss
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Lately, Mrs Glamourpuss has been looking like a women desperately in need of a Land

Princess Anne. The mother of all posh mothers

Rover and a labrador. She’s taken to tooling around the home counties dressed in nothing less than a knee-length tweed skirt, boots with a sensible heal, a neat cardigan and an orange Barbour jacket. Oh, and a silk scarf carelessly knotted at the neck. What has wrought these changes? Is it age? A rather tardy longing for respectability? The onset of a  sinister mental disorder, the early signs of which is a new host personality?

Perhaps it’s simple nostalgia. Strangely, it’s not nostalgia for some long-gone era of my own life, or of my mother’s or grandmother’s. It appears to be nostalgia for people I’ve never met and really have nothing to do with – posh mothers. Like the population of a remote Romanian village, they are sometimes spotted outside large department stories, the Chelsea Flower Show and the gates of prep schools. But not often. If one is lucky enough to report a verified sighting, they are usually caught driving large cars and tooting their horns at every passing object, animal or otherwise. They have husbands who wear those noisy wide-wale corduroy trousers when they are at home and, for all we know, attend their jobs in the city in the nude because no one is up early enough to see them slip away and no one stays up late enough to greet them on their return. In fact, they may not work at all but simply operate as a chain of well-bred buskers who have mastered the accordion, Kate Bush’s back catalogue and an array of foreign disguises.

Posh mothers have big houses and Agas. Both these items take up quite a bit of their conversation. They are constantly having to renovate the former and discipline the later. Agas, it seems, are merely rather, expensive and frustrating decorations.  I’ve never actually spoken to a posh mother. Like penguins and fish, they seem to stick to their own sort – and immediately recognise me as an outsider. So I must admire them and their noisome wax jackets from a distance.

One thing I have noticed is that posh mothers don’t look happy. They may own all the cashmere in Christendom, large farmhouses with, thankfully,no animals aside from Peregrine’s fat Shetland, drive about in tanks rather than ordinary cars, but they do not appear overjoyed by their good fortune. Instead they seem bit fed up with it all. And, they would do well to note that the rest of us are not all happy either. I overheard one of them explain that it was easier for working mums, they didn’t take responsibility for their children’s manners  - they left it to the school. I might have remonstrated and mentioned that just because I worked didn’t mean I allowed my child to eat like a wild animal or forgo the whole please and thank-you routine. But then, if your opponent is driving a tank, wearing big muddy boots and accustomed to speaking in a very loud voice designed to frighten foreign nannies, what chance does one have of success? Fights are never really fair.

Now that I think about it, my tweed looks a bit worn and my desire for Hunter wellies is dissapating. What has one’s daughter, the Imp, done with my old motorcycle jacket? Where is my vulgar jewellery?  My trusted vintage dresses?

Surely the truth is the best cure for nostalgia.

Filed under: country clothes, posh mothers by Mrs Glamourpuss
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Nothing covers as much sartorial ground as ladies’ trousers. And no one garment is more likely to go wrong. Just imagine women of all shapes and sizes pushing trolleys across the hills and dales of Tesco or rushing rabbit-like to the office printer in harem trousers. What would happen if all the ladies in the local church choir suddenly adopted jodhpurs instead of their sweeping robes? Or, worse if an edict went our that we must all wear palazzo pants in the style of Cher, circa 1972.  And, it has to be said, that while very skinny jeans look fabulous on Kate Moss, they are less admirable when worn by a mere mortal.  And, alas, Mrs Glamourpuss is but a mere mortal in so many ways. So when there are so many pitfalls before us, what is the best and most righteous path to follow? Simple. Shop in a place where you are sure of an honest opinion.

Mrs Glamourpuss was recently in Hertford town centre and stopped in at Retail Therapy. Jane has been in the business of helping women find flattering clothes for some little time. And she’s good at what she does. She seems to follow a simple rule: a shop is not just a collection of clothes, but the character and outlook of its owner and employees.  Jane helps customers find things, and she was able to help Mrs Glamourpuss into a new pair of trousers.  They are made by Sticky Fingers – which I know sounds rather unpleasant. But in fact they make rather nice things – especially this season. The trousers I selected have a full leg and a high waist – which is a more forgiving than one would have thought.

Clean and elegant

There are lots of rules about trousers and body types. Like a lot of rules, they are mostly useless. Experience is the thing. Stand in front of a mirror and try on every style in the vicinity,Ask someone who will tell you the truth for her opinion. If one brand is wrong for you, another will be right. The other rule of thumb to keep in mind is simple – expensive is generally better.

I know it’s obvious, but it bears repeating.

Filed under: Unpleasant truths, classic dressing, fashion by Mrs Glamourpuss
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Mrs Glamourpuss has just returned from her annual sojourn to America. As we all know,Americans love all that is British. All one need do is simply mention that one has a British Husband and resides in this glorious nation – and poof – one is suddenly thronged with admirers of all kinds. In the course of a conversation held in a small gym at chain hotel on the Oregon coast, Mrs Glamourpuss got on to the topic of Barbour coats. Everyone apparently wants one this year  As far as fashion goes, the British countryside has never been more chic. Suddenly we are awash is wellies of all kinds and trotting rapidly toward stores that stock saddles and curry combs. Even one’s daughter, the Imp, who spends more and more time in the urban playground that is London, wants to dress as if she had just wandered lonely as a cloud from a rugged field near Chester. On the one hand it is inexplicable. Why do we want to buy voraciously expensive flats and houses in fashionable parts of London and then dress as if we are farmers’ wives living near Coventry? A burning question – obviously. But on the other hand, there is something wonderfully sweet about clothes that don’t really change too much and smell like fresh air, seeds and wool. Thankfully, Mrs Glamourpuss only has two hands. If she has as many as three, she would be unable to make decisions of any kind.

Fashionable

So, I decided not to get a Barbour. Instead, I found a jacket from that great American brand – Coach. It’s celebrating 70 years in business. As a girl, a Coach bag was the pinnacle of unassuming good taste. Alas, Mrs Glamourpuss could never afford one and yearns still for the simple lines and quiet quality. The jacket, known as a Madison,  is brown and quilted – promising both warmth and utility. Even better it was purchased at a factory outlet. And the Imp,found a wonderful olive green waxed Barbour that she insists will work with her carefully selected wardrobe. And so should for the price. One can only hope the Imp will not grow too much taller. But then, one can never tell with children – or fashions for that matter.

Filed under: Barbour, Coach, Country fashion, classic dressing by Mrs Glamourpuss
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Mrs Glamourpuss has been exceedingly quiet lately. Few tweets, little blogging, even less witty repartee. Why? A one word answer will suffice – work,  that destroyer of all that is amusing, light-hearted and utterly pointless. Mrs Glamourpuss who is in possession of a wealth of character is not in possession of the other more desirable form of wealth. So when there is work, she makes herself equal to the task.

But enough of me and my small life. Let us turn to something that will entertain and enlighten. Yes, that’s right with the autumn practically upon us, we should all start thinking about blazers. They are less of an investment than a coat and neater than a sweater. They give warmth without the fear of bulk and colour without having to worry about whether an annoying four inches of hem is poking out. This one is from Zara and costs less than £70.00. What more could you want? A great deal one supposes, but let us instead focus on the possible.

Filed under: Blazers, classic dressing by Mrs Glamourpuss
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Never let it be said that Mrs Glamourpuss does not understand the finer things in life. Champagne, Godiva chocolates and rather expensive shoes are her passions – if not her constant companions. But she does sometimes wake in the middle of the night to weep over the protracted death of manners. She does not refer here to the complexities of over-refined etiquette that indeed answer burning questions about the proper use of bon-bon spoons – although such information is useful and, at times, even relevant. No. Mrs Glamourpuss is referring to the common-or-garden pleasantries that make life that little bit more pleasant.  Smart phones, Facebook and extremely cheap clothing have a played their part in the death of proper human interaction. Now, we are sadly more relaxed about what we tell everyone, more inclined to share details and events. What, I ask you, could be worse than everyone talking about themselves at the same time? The din. The tedium. The belief that everyone is interested in us. Being oneself is not to be encouraged in all people at all times. Why is it that we have time to post our facebook status repeatedly, but not send a friend a thank-you note following a party?

It’s a well-known story. Heidi Withers as a young bride-to-be went to stay at the home of her soon-to-be stepmother-in-law. Following her visit, she received an email castigating her for being a demanding, inconsiderate guest who failed to supply a hand-written thank-you note. Heidi promptly fowarded the email to her friends and the rest is now enshrined in headlines everywhere.

May I gently and politely  suggest that Caroline Withers, the prospective step-mother in-law was right. Not so much in sending the email, but in as much as Heidi did show terrible manners. Who would want her as a guest is she was so ungracious as to demand particular foods and remain in bed well-past the rising-time of the house-hold? Entertaining guests is hard work, entertaining rude guests is a hardship.

The entire furore may have been avoided with a single act; the writing of a thank-you note. And, not one of the vulgar pre-printed ilk that brides sometimes send because they have recieved so many gifts that they don’t have time to write notes for them all. A thank-you note takes about three minutes to compose. The first of those minutes is spent thanking the host or hostess for the party or visit. The second is dedicated to recalling an event during the party or event that was particularly wonderful. The final is then wishing them well and repeating ones thanks. If the note is for a gift, mention the specific gift, why you like it and then repeat you thanks and best wishes in a final line. Now, that wasn’t hard was it?

So do start sending those notes and reminding your friends and family members that you appreciate their kindness and consideration. On the other hand, Mrs Glamourpuss would pay good money to attend Heidi Withers’ wedding  just to see if cat fights do break out. One does love a bit of a brawl.

Filed under: Entertaining, Thank-you notes, bon-bon spoons, good manners by Mrs Glamourpuss
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In Hertfordshire we have horses - and vintage bargains

Some call it vintage, others once-loved and there are a few who can’t bear calling it anything but second-hand. But push aside all the linguistic shrubbery, and it comes down to one simple little thing: a bargain. And who doesn’t like a bargain? Never let it be said that Mrs Glamourpuss is a snob. Non. She carries with her an open mind and an increasingly small amount of disposable earnings. Blame the current economy. Blame, one’s daughter the imp for attending ballet school. Blame one’s mother for her Teutonic parsimony. But the truth remains – why shouldn’t we wear other people’s clothes? After all, we sit in other people’s cars, visit their houses and enjoy their hospitality. Some women I know even go to the extreme of sleeping with other people’s husbands. In this light, Wearing their clothes seems both demure and perfectly natural. Ladylike even

Having put snobbery and the complexities of modern morality deservedly to rest, let us look at the practicalities of buying pre-worn clothes.

• Look for labels – Quality lasts more than one season. So, it’s natural to avoid the mass produced and look for brands you might otherwise not be able to afford. Nicola Farhi, for example, is combines quality with something that’s easily recognised as just to one side of classic dressing. Or, go for a full-on classic. In our hearts, so many women really do want to look like the queen in an Hermés scarf and Barbour jacket.
• Alterations – It used to be that women just assumed their clothes would need to be altered to suit their needs. Good legs meant you might wear your skirt an inch above rather than an inch below your knee. Keep that in mind. Look for generous seam allowances and uncluttered construction. Good clothes can be changed to suit your height and often even your figure.
• Wear – Always look at the  underarms, pockets and hems of a garment. Theses are the places that wear-and-tear make their triumphal announcements. Don’t be tempted by clothes that have been rather too much loved. You will not get the wear or sufficient comfort from them.

And, if you happen to be in the vicinity of Hertford and Ware here in glorious Hertfordshire  on the evening of July 14th, then you will not want to miss the Frock Exchange, brought to you by Michelle Dawn. Michelle is a rather excellent designer of all things bridal and a lovely person to boot. And now she’s turned her hand to yet another thrilling project. Thursday will be the perfect opportunity to find a little something for those August holidays or the coming autumn. And, it’s so close to Mrs Glamourpuss’ country retreat that she will be there with bells on.

Filed under: Bargains, Once-loved clothes, The Frock Exchange by Mrs Glamourpuss
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A good time to buy at Zara

It’s that time of year. The solstice has just passed, Wimbledon is in full swing, Glastonbury is awash in mud and the season of sales has arrived like an army of Prussians attempting to subdue all of France. Ah. Poor economic news in one quarter is excellent news in another.  Gap has let rip with great reductions. One’s daughter, the Imp, has reported that Topshop, that altar to all that is young, indiscreet and far too sheer, has also slashed it’s pricing to practically nothing. John Lewis is never out of the running for long and even Zara beloved of middle-aged ladies and Spanish vixens alike looks set to follow the trend. And, as exciting as a truly good bargain can be, let us all remember one thing: No price tag is worth losing one’s ladylike composure over. Like any social event, a sale has certain rules and regulations that are worth noting. These can help you reach bargains without needing to elbow people out of the way.

Wear a hat – Really. People will assume you are a member of the royal family, a nun in hiding, part of a strict religious discipline, rushing to a wedding or simply, utterly mad. Only a naked man running has the power to part a crowd more quickly than a woman in a very large hat. Hats are favoured by people who mutter to themselves on the bus or sit for hours in parks. Something about a hat suggests insanity – and possibly unwashed hair – which is really just as bad. Wear a hat and even the most competitive shoppers will avoid you.

Shout at a child -  This is my favourite technique for breaking up a crowd. Shouting at a child is a complex taboo. We all do it, because honestly children can be annoying and they sometimes need to be told not to do dangerous things. However, most of us have the good sense not to do it in public. If you remonstrate with a child in a public place, everyone in the room will stop what they are doing and stare at you. This will give you plenty of time to nip over to a crowded clothing rack or pile and take what you want. Agree to the drama with you young accomplice before you begin. And, don’t shout at someone else’s child. One doesn’t want to spend the afternoon explaining ones motive to store security.

Commandeer a Sales Assistant – This is ideal if you have to wait to try on clothes. Simply set up camp in a changing room and send the sales assistant out to fetch items in different sizes and colours. With a little convincing, he or she will believe that you are simply too stupid to understand how shops work. Rather than explain that you have to look for things yourself, the sales assistant will usually comply – especially if you appear to be one of the difficult people. Take coffee and a cold drink with you.

Good luck.

Filed under: Happiness, good manners, sales by Mrs Glamourpuss
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Mrs Glamourpuss frequently has to leap into her red snit with a complaint about the general state of customer service in this great nation she calls home. In retail establishments  both great and small, shop assistants can be found loitering behind racks or standing in front of cash registers with no apparent interest in customers; but a great regard for the to-ings and fro-ings of their own lives. They chew gum, they eat as though starved and they do not make eye contact.  But enough of the negative. Just yesterday, I met Peter at the House of Fraser in Westfield, Shepherd’s Bush. Peter was the power behind the Sisley counter. A man who likes his job and enjoys talking to customers. He is patient and and understanding. After all, changing one’s scent is a big decision – one cannot just expect to do it in an instant and without proper thought. I have worn Eau de Soir for some little time. Peter understood my quandary about making the change to Soir de Lune – a more provocative and slightly headier fragrance. Or, A mystical blend of elegance and sensuality, as it says on the packaging. He was able to speak at length about the Sisley  perfumes and describe them with uncanny accuracy. This is no mean feat. He knew his products and he understood his customer. It was a wonderful experience – and I didn’t even buy anything.

I would like Peter to show every shop assistant in Britain how their jobs are done. He was such a pleasant and charming example of what shopping should be like.

So, I raise my glass to Peter and all that is wonderful about shopping.

Filed under: House of Fraser, scent, shopping by Mrs Glamourpuss
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