“There are no secrets to success. It is the result of preparation, hard work, and learning from failure.”
– Colin Powell
Sam and Nic Chapman latest collection of rather luxurious gold (base), silver (eyes), and brass (finish)
brushes truly rival the bests of my kit. Though Real Techniques have already gained a plethora of beauty-loving fans, this collection kicks things up to premium level.
Bold Metals – as a seven-piece collection – features a lot of tapering (which generally does most of the work when you’re hoping for a natural finish), weighted handles, and super-soft white bristles (ideal for gauging product pick-up). Personally, the three best brushes from the collection are the Arched Powder Brush 100 (for airbrushed faces), Angled Liner Brush 202 (for getting right inside the lashline without bristle drag), and the Tapered Blush Brush 300 (for living in sculptor’s paradise).
I recently hosted a blogger dinner party (more on that next week!) and even purchased a few more Bold Metals brushes to include in an unplanned prize pack to share the love. They have some lovely collections already tied up with a bow, but this piece-by-piece collection will get my vote every time.
For almost three years, I have identified Tom Aikens as the best restaurant in London; the restaurant I recommend to every tourist, Londoner, and acquaintance in between…
I’ve swapped camps. My sadistically pre-emptive ‘last meal’ will now have to be taken at Bob Bob Ricard. To be frank, it kicks some luxurious ass.
In the middle of London Fashion Week, three of my nearest and dearest joined me at the Russian-influenced restaurant for a spot of lunch between shows. A caviar-topped, triple-coursed, and champagne-fueled spot of lunch, that is.
Cheersing over a bottle of Ayale Rosé Majeur NV (a fresh and fleshy champagne – in my opinion, as drinkably refined as it gets for rosé), we chose to leave our starter selections in the hands of our waiter, hoping it would be a strong indicator of the restaurant’s strengths and weaknesses before it came time to order our mains.
Unfortunately, every dish was as delectable as the next.
In a frenzy of visually-triggered starvation, we rushed to feed each other a feast of Oysters de Gaulle (grilled with Bearnaise sauce and chervil), Oysters Brezhnev (baked with parmesan and black truffle), lobster Pelemeni (served with Salmon Roe), truffled potato and mushroom Vareniki dumplings (served with crispy onion and Shimeji mushrooms), seabass ceviche with avocado (made with cucumber, tomato, coriander, jalapeno peppers and lime), and a small glass of vodka to wash it all down.
When in Rome.
Tortured by the idea of missing out on a spectacular dish, we agreed to share as many bites as we could spare and order from different sections of the menu.
Naturally, I still managed to throw a metaphorical lock and key over my venison steak tartare as soon as it arrived. Steak tartare is my number one comfort food (try to ignore the psychological profile that gives me), but Bob Bob Ricard’s version – with raw quail egg and double-bite croutons – was, essentially, The King of Tartare.
Not that the other dishes don’t deserve their own distinctions, my friend’s chicken, mushroom and champagne pie was a monogrammed masterpiece, the Filet Mignon Rossini (28-day aged Scotch beef with seared foie gras and confit apple, served with truffle gravy) was the most indulgent and rich plate of food I’d ever laid eyes on, and the Fresh lobster macaroni and cheese (specifically, swiss and parmesan cheese) was a comfort food dream come to life.
Even the carrots and parsnips (roasted in beef dripping with honey and thyme) made my difficult-to-please, carnivorous male friends swoon.
Feeling it was time to finally play with the Press For Champagne button (Bob Bob Ricard is almost infamous for their indulgent button system), our waiter promptly sashayed over with a bottle of Ayale and topped our glasses up. A gimmick to some, but a gimmick too rewarding to deny
By our waiter’s suggestion, we paused to share 30g of Alverta Imperial caviar (absolute salty perfection and known for its larger eggs and lighter colour), already planning our next visit.
As I become less and less of a ‘dessert person’, I made sure to enjoy my share of Alverta and went – once again – with our waiter’s recommendation for dessert. While my friends made marriage proposals to their Dulce de Leche creme brulees and strawberries and cream souffles, I took a bite of my friend’s Eton Mess en Perle (lime meringue, strawberry sorbet, raspberry, marshmallows, and cream) and had an epiphany.
When dessert shows up looking like this, I am absolutely a dessert person.
One pour of mint creme anglaise of chocolate and mint souffle later and I was sold: Bob Bob Ricard is the best restaurant in London.
London Fashion Week always ends up morphing into a blur of covetable threads, perfect faces, bass-filled soundtracks and air kisses by the hundreds. A fantastic blur – don’t get me wrong – but a blur, nonetheless. Welcome to Day Three (on what is officially Day Five…blame everything in my aforementioned list!)
On Sunday, I was audience to Preen by Thornton Bregazzi‘s floaty patchwork and playful appliques, Sophia Webster‘s Coca Cola-coated carnival accessories, Temperley London‘s geometric opulence, Jonathan Saunders‘ more-is-more retro formality, and David Koma‘s stunning frilled simplicity.
As the saying goes, check it all out in LG’s video – below!
You know I love you guys, right? I love you so much I want to introduce you to The Rosebery (one of Supercity Apartments’ properties).
Every Fashion Week I toy with the idea of getting a hotel room to act as my charging station/temporary wardrobe/nap centre, but often talk myself out of it, knowing most London hotel rooms lack the creature comforts and space that I’ve come to love.
Not any sane soul could talk themselves out of The Rosebery.
Battling all of East London’s hotels, this Clerkenwell-based ‘aparthotel’ comes with fully furnished supersized suites, every amenity one could could possibly need (including a plethora of ccutlery, crockery, glassware and Nespresso pods), air con, iPod docks, fast (!!) wi-fi, a luxury bathroom, and more closet space than even a Fashion Week wardrobe could fill.
All in all, my stay was flawless. I worked, played, ate and drank as comfortably as I would have at home, yet found myself a mere five minute cab away from every show, meeting, and meal planned throughout Covent Garden and Soho.
The second they start to look for a live-in blogger, I plan on tying up the lines…