11.20.09
My 21st birthday in numbers
My 21st birthday wasn’t the debauched night that is expected (I’m saving bad behaviour for me and Jane’s joint birthday party next week) but it was still a lot of fun. Very random and unlike any day I’ve ever had, but great fun. It consisted of…
1 ride on a scary rollercoaster in Hyde Park.
15 minutes of tentative ice-skating.
1 round on the carousel. My horse was called Ashley:
1 plastic cup of Mulled Wine (my first – it was delish).
2 celebrity sightings – that blonde from Hollyoaks and the mixed-race lady from Holby City.
2 hours stroking corsets, trying on hats and blushing over “erotica” (Me: “What’s this?” Sian: “That’s a cock ring, Alex”) in posh knickers shop Bordello, Shoreditch.
17 birthday greetings posted on my Facebook wall.
31 happy birthday messages on Twitter
1 impromptu trip to Vinopolis for girly drinks
…And many, many white wines.
11.18.09
Is this what being a grown up feels like?
Tomorrow I’m 21.
Though the idea of celebrating your birthday has always seemed a little odd to me (and self-indulgent – yes, I was raised in church) I like the idea of “reflecting”. Particularly on the stuff I’ve done and the stuff I thought I’ve had done. I’m well aware that I’m young and have a lot to learn, but it does seem that there are an awful lot of gaps in my “life experience”. See:
I don’t understand the Middle East Conflict.
I haven’t been in a long-term relationship.
My hair is still always a little bit messy.
I still do that incredibly nerdy thing of pushing my glasses up at the bridge.
I haven’t lost my “puppy fat”.
I don’t think I’m going to get any taller than 5ft 3 
I haven’t been to university yet. At least not for any longer than two semesters.
I have yet to visit Paris. Or Venice. Or Rome. Or Barcelona.
Hmm. Maybe when I’m 22 I’ll be a proper grown up?
11.04.09
How I got to meet Mayer Hawthorne
**DISCLAIMER** My head’s still a little muddled after all the excitement so this blog post won’t be my best work. Expect fangirlishness aplenty, pictures in place of text and overuse of exclamation marks.
My growing obsession admiration for Mayer Hawthorne has been well-documented in my blog, Posterous and Twitter feed. I’ve loved – nay, ADORED – his music since the first time I heard Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out and have waxed lyrical about the following since:
1. His geeky specs. I’m a sucker for a guy with thick-framed glasses.
2. His voice – he sings like his larynx has been dipped in caramel and hot fudge sauce. Reminds me of an ice cream sundae (but most desserts don’t make my knees wobbly).
3. His general awesomeness – he played all the instruments when recording his debut album A Strange Arrangement. Which is just awesome.
Also, he’s really cute.
So you can imagine my excitement when I heard that the man himself would be playing at the Queen of Hoxton in Whoreditch. I marked the date on my Google Calendar and everything. See:
You’d think, with the sophistication of my reminder techniques, I’d get hold of a ticket before they’d sold out. I didn’t. And I nearly cried. But thanks to the power of Twitter (and my Fairy Godmothers – you know who you are) my name made it’s way on to the guestlist for the show last Thursday.
*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*
So, after whole hours of stressing about what to wear (I wore my pink Lipsy dress, if you’re interested) and wondering how I’d approach him without blurting “LET ME BEAR YOUR CHILDREN”, I finally resolved to speak to him when I saw him. I mean, if critics are anything to go by Mayer Hawthorne is going to be big soon. I might not have the chance to approach him again without being batted aside by fifteen bodyguards.
Believe it or not, the perfect opportunity arose after the show (he sounds uh-MAZING live). Stu, incidentally the one who introduced me to Mayer Hawthorne, waited patiently with me until the club cleared. Then there he was. In t-shirt and trainers, packing up the keyboard on stage. I’d love to say that I played it cool but according to Stu I was “blinking like a psycho”. Humph. When my hands stopped trembling I strolled over to say hello (and didn’t trip in my massive platforms – WIN) and introduced myself – we’ve talked a few times on Twitter, dont’cha know.
And this is where I can’t write anything without sounding like a dopey fangirl (“Like, OMG he touched my FACE”). We chatted a little about London, vinyls, his show and I managed to avoid dribbling which is always a bonus. He was incredibly charming. Disarmingly so, in fact – I certainly wasn’t prepared for it – and recognised me off Twitter. He even signed a vinyl for Stu’s friend:
Thanks to Stu for the pic!
And he posed for a picture with me! Ignore my silly closed eyes and look at how cute he is instead! Look, that’s his hand! ON ME!
"Alex + Mayer 4EVA!!!!1!"
I’ve heard that you shouldn’t meet the people that you look up to because they’ll always disappoint. But Mayer Hawthorne didn’t. He was polite, charming and friendly. I love that he packed up his own equipment after the show (as opposed to snorting lines of coke off a supermodel’s thigh, or something). I love that he’s quite clearly all about the music. And I can’t wait until he’s back in the UK to perform again.
10.21.09
“Look mum, I’m in Time Out!”
Remember when I interned at Time Out over the Summer? Well in my two-week stint, they let me help out loads on the 2009/10 Student Guide and I even got a few things published.
And I’m very pleased. Not least because I would eat kittens for a byline in Time Out, but because the Student Guide is a really fantastic magazine – certainly the best student-aimed publication I’ve read. It’s incredibly useful without being patronising, and I’m very proud to have worked on it.
Regardez:
That’s a whole page with my writing! All about interiors, which is apt considering I write for Domestic Sluttery.
And another full page all about Camden, which I co-wrote (it’s mostly my writing though – soz Josh Heller!):
A little write-up about art fairs:
Not to mention a few bylines I got for additional research (e.g. tramping around East London art galleries).
I’m going to be unbearably smug over the next few days. Just so you know.
10.16.09
I’m doing that thing again
You know, where I eschew social contact in favour of holing up in front of the telly. Or in the bath. Or going to bed at 9.15pm. It’s not very good, but I like it. So why stop?
Because I have a niggling feeling that it’s not that healthy. So what to do?
Answers on a postcard please.
10.11.09
I got a Posterous!
Social media whore that I am, there’s few things I like more than a new blogging platform. I’ve had various flings with Tumblr and Blogger before settling on WordPress, so it’s only fair to give Posterous a try too. (By the way, if you don’t know how Posterous works then read this Mashable post – it’ll explain it far better than I ever could.)
On my Posterous, I’ll be posting the stuff that I find online when I’m supposed to be doing something more constructive. It’s basically the stuff that doesn’t quite constitute a blog post, but deserves more attention than a tweet. And anywhere I can wax lyrical about Mayer Hawthorne and My Milk Toof will always get a thumbs-up from me.
Alex Sheppard’s Posterous. Subscribe and that. Go on. Please.
10.05.09
The month that was…September
My last blog post was a bit rubbish, really. Bullet points are fine once in a while but, if I’m to practice my writing in this blog, it’s pretty poor form. So I’ve edited it and given it a bit more attention. Wow, I feel much better now.
When I first got my blog, I meant to do monthly reviews as a way of keeping track of the good things that happened (kind of like a diary minus the gossip). But I didn’t because I’ve been busy and generally a bit rubbish. So, here is the inaugural ‘Month that was…’ post. Take it away, September:
Twestival
I’ve always thought that there’s a direct correlation between the awesomeness of a night out and the intensity of the subsequent hangover. Twestival London proved that theory correct – worst hangover of the year. Even thinking about the sparkly pink wine (which was very nice) makes me feel a bit queasy. Brr. Enough of hangover talk.
Anyway, because of said hangover I don’t remember a great deal about what happened. I do remember the sheer size of Vinopolis (the venue), bumping into lots of people I chatted to on Twitter and somehow making it to the Spoonfed party in Shoreditch. If someone could remind me about what happened in between, I’d be grateful.
Sluttery in your Inbox
Domestic Sluttery let me be their Newsletter Editor (yay! woot! etc!), which means that once a fortnight I put together an email full of prettiness (and Sian double-checks I’ve spelt “stationery” correctly). Our first newsletter went out on September 21st and we’re rather proud if it.
Also: Check us out in the November issue of Ideal Home magazine!
Wilton’s Music Hall
Wilton’s is one of the most beautiful venues I’ve visited in London. It’s the world’s oldest surviving music hall and has a decrepit, spooky charm that makes it perfect for “gothabilly” bands like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and rather strange cabaret acts. There’s a lovely little bar (with cocktails!) and it’s very cosy. I visited a couple of times in September and fell in love with it – it’s a really amazing building. I think I’d like to have my wedding reception here. That’s if it survives – it’s semi-derelict and needs to raise a huge amount of money to stay open.
Qyper of the Week
The lovely people at Qype.co.uk made me their Qyper of the Week in September! I got my face in the newsletter, Jess gave me a lovely write-up on the blog and a big bag of sweets aaaaaall to myself. See? Staying in on a Friday night typing reviews does have it’s rewards.
And finally…
…I done got me a new job! It’s at Webjam and I blogged about it’s brillance here, including the fact that I finish at 1pm. As it’s only part-time, I’m still on the hunt for something to do in the afternoons. I should mention that people who find me jobs get plied with cocktails for their trouble. Just sayin’.
09.22.09
Why my new job is the shiz
N.B Seeing as I’ve had a new job for over a week this blog post shouldn’t come as a surprise. I’m just a bit lazy.
N. N. B Come payday, I vow to get Siany hammered on cocktails for sending me the job application in the first place. Thanks Sian! x
I have a job at a lovely company called Webjam in a lovely corner of London. Here’s why it’s the cat’s pyjamas:
- I only work until 1pm, meaning I can visit exhibitions, shops and museums during the afternoon. Or I can nap.
- We get up to 15 different types of fruit delivered to our office.
- The room is a lovely temperature.
- I won’t get laughed at for putting serious thought into what web browser I use.
- Ditto Twitter client.
- No-one minds when I bother them persistently for help over Skype.
- That is because they’re all lovely.
09.20.09
Five weeks, three magazines, one summer.
Last year in a rare spurt of organisation, I emailed over a dozen magazines about work experience with the aim to fill my July and August with internships. This meant that I’d be spending my entire summer working full-time for free. I didn’t really think the whole thing through. That said I’m glad that I let my ambition get in the way of common sense. Yes, I had no money and missed out on loads of summer fun (I haven’t had a proper holiday in two years) but the experience I gained was invaluable. My CV also looks rather awesome.
Seeing as I blog about everything nowadays, I thought it a good idea to do just that. But I’m also aware that certain things should be left unsaid – I don’t fancy getting sued. So I’m just going to do a brief overview of my three placements.
More! Magazine [two weeks]
I spent the night before my internship at more! poring over the last issue seeing as I hadn’t read a copy since…ever. My first few days in the office were spent trying to tell everyone apart; in their “on-trend” skinny jeans, blazers and bobbed hair some of the staff looked alarmingly similar. But despite my refusal to spend more than eight minutes deciding what to wear in the morning, I wasn’t shunned by them. In fact, everyone was rather lovely.
I blogged about my two weeks at more! here.
Shortlist [one week]
My Shortlist internship is proof that good things come from tweeting in bed at 10am.
They said this:
“We need an intern to help out in the Shortlist office for two weeks. DM for details”
And I said this:
“If I wasn’t interning at Time Out next week I’d *so* apply for that.”
Then they asked me if I wanted to come in for the week! As a friend said, “This is why you must never – NEVER – take you eyes off
Twitter. Srsly, why are you reading this right now? READ TWITTER!” Sage words.
Time Out [two weeks]
I actually worship Time Out so I was very excited about doing work experience there. I wasn’t disappointed. They really made an effort to give interns work related to their interests and experience; I was placed on the team producing material for students new to London. They let me scribble lots about places I like (and talked me through the edits they made to my writing), play around on Quark and visit art galleries. *And* they bought me a massive bar of Toblerone to say thank you. I heart them.
The ironic thing is that after getting all that valuable experience, I don’t think I want to work for a magazine. In the last year the amount of time I spend reading magazines and newspapers has dwindled to virtually nothing; I read blogs instead and I like working online. Call me a snob/geek, but it bothered me working in offices where people didn’t *seriously* think about what web browser to use. And who knows what state the industry will be once I finally graduate?
But I digress. I did some fun things, I did some boring things and I learnt a tonne. But I’m so glad it’s over – working for free sucks.
