Thursday, December 31, 2015

LOOKING BACK


They say "Theam work makes the dream work" and I couldn't agree more. I believe that once you surround yourself with like minded people, they will lift you higher and higher and magical things will happen. This is exactly what happened to me this year. I was thinking about this blog for a long time and it was only when I met Roland, our editor at the begging of this year, he brought this blog (in my mind) to the next level. Roland keeps encouraging me to be more and more braver in a way I want to spread my messages and when I see your support and kind messages on our social media, I will be forever grateful for that. Read how we met here in Roland's first letter from the editor, it's a funny story. Then, in the summer I met Matthew our photographer during The Canary Yellow photoshoot I've styled. When I worked with him and after I saw the finished photos, I knew straight away that this guy just "know". His photography business - "Matthew, Photography on a first name basis" says it all after all. So between myself, a high energy person who easily gets excited over almost every little thing, to Roland who tells me during a shoot "Agnes, hold your stomach in" and Matthew who's well aware at this stage of my double chin, we are having a great fun shooting and creating a stories that hopefully are making you smile. I must say I admire their work and patience when I'm forever complaining about my weight while eating a half of roast chicken on top of a bottle of wine while the guys are ordering green tea (Roland's favourite), salads and all the good things available on the menu. I honestly don't know do they do it?

I would like to thank you for reading our blog and following us on social media and in the New Year I wish you lots of love and happiness.


Huge thanks to Roland and Matthew for keeping up with the Diva!


Looking back, here are my personal favourite post, comment below and let me know which are yours.


Much Love, Agnes x



THE RETURN OF AGNES

                                                                                     

Three days later I’m sitting in Roland’s apartment, an Arabian Nights fantasy realm. It reflects perfectly how I feel inside. Opulent, colourful, exotic, confident, luscious. I have overhauled my wardrobe, changed my business attire permanently, given myself full permission to be who I am and make no apologies. I remember the great Yves Saint Laurent quote, thanks to Sandrine’s effortless partying style, “Over the years I have learned that what is important in a dress is the woman who is wearing it.” And it’s a dual relationship, a woman and style. Not always easy, fraught with frequent mishaps, but when I reclaimed myself I was put back in charge, wearing my clothes, and revelling in them, not just acquiescing to the convenience of a functional wardrobe due to a very demanding business, that leaves so little time for me. I’m important, and Yves Saint Laurent tells me so. Continue reading here.







MISS CHATELAINE, PART ONE.


I’m in France Girls; where else?! I burst into song, my arms extended in Gallic exuberance, my breakfast glass of Moet goes flying, and lands in the small courtyard below. “Sorry” I shout at the handsome bloke with the cleft chin, and dark shoulder length hair having a morning espresso. He looks up from over a pair of sunglasses, and from a perfect full mouth, breaks into a smile that’s as dazzling as a white picket fence. A man just shouldn’t have lips like that. I retreat to my bedroom, light a cigarette and take a deep swig from the bottle. It’s my first morning and if I don’t calm down, I just might get evicted.  If this is only a taste of what the trend-setting consort Marie Antoinette experienced on a daily basis, it’s almost worth losing a head for. Continue reading here.







I have changed into a shiny blue, pink, silver and gold patterned Jacquard vintage 60’s dress, with light and airy Angel chiffon sleeves. It’s truly delectable, a garment that’s dressy, unique, and has that bit of extra Pizazz, but I’m in shock. My bath was so relaxing that I fell asleep, and woke when I slid beneath the water line and naturally inhaled. Moet has a lot to answer for, especially when combined with a bath tub full to the brim of scented hot water. Choking, my vision blurred, looking at two little Angels cavorting on the edge of my bath-tub, “this is it” I thought, “I’m dying” (I immediately think of my Hermes scarf) then squint a bit and realise that my little friends are Porcelain ornaments. “Jesus I’m late” I leap from the bath tub like Stefka Kostadinova, and proceed to change. I stop at the top of the grand staircase of the Chateau and try to look composed, Thank God for make-up and Solpadine. Beauty and worth might not be found in the same bottle, but for now I’m grateful to Revlon and Omega Pharma, and feeling decidedly worth it. Continue reading here.







My happy colour comes to the rescue. I jump into black with the same abandon and glee as I do when I plunge into a Bottle of Cabernet.Beautiful black- slimming (my hips scream thankyou), elegant, camouflaging, comfortable, forgiving, and if that’s not enough, doesn’t clash with anything, is oblivious to stains, and can handle a heap of accessories while flattering every skin tone, and slips on like a post-coital sigh, If men had the same qualities, girls would be a lot happier.  Continue reading here.








I was busy spooning jam onto my dish of Devon clotted cream as we chatted, I had abandoned my scone. It was only a vehicle for jam and cream, and I was cutting to the chase. I was also flirting with Salvador, a magnificent specimen of Spanish manhood, poured into drainpipe black trousers, crisp shirt, waistcoat, a full length fitted apron; and hotter than a June Bride in a brass featherbed. I was silently thanking God for my Rigby and Peller corset. My bust rises like a muffin every time. Salvador pours tea with white gloves,and leans in for an appreciative look. I think I’m about to squeal, but bite my tongue.



“Agnes is that good for you?” 


Clare asks tentatively, after making a meal of three sugared almonds, and a finger sandwich.


“Darling, probably not, would you pass the caramel syrup, the champagne, and the ice-bucket?” Continue reading here.








Crisis! I have already started my winter hibernation, and I’m afraid to get on the scales. A life changing event is urgently needed. I’m going foetal under 20 tog duvets and sucking on chocolate like it’s time released medication. I want to feel pretty and feminine, not crumpling behind the hall door after work, peeling off two layers of spanks (that cause more friction than my family at Christmas) then falling into a Kaftan that’s one stop short of a parachute, and looking accusingly at the row of empty wine bottles as though they made me do it. This morning  at 11.00 (I didn’t get my lie in) I assaulted the obstacle course that is my kitchen, made it safely to the  cupboards, and started rummaging around for goodies, previous night’s make up still on, and mascara running riot; I looked like a Racoon. Wondered if I should take a selfie a la Tyra Banks, but would probably lose my readers. Continue reading here.








For example, we all understand the benefits and advantages of a revealing décolleté, let’s not be overly modest. I’m rather fond of my “ample charms” in a “Hello Boys” sort of way, but there’s an invisible line with low cut dresses where “Hello Boys” can quickly become “How ya Lads.” My point being, that I’m not exempt from the unwritten rules of chic which govern the items I put on. Oh yes, nothing is more glorious than confidence, it’s the ultimate fashion accessory, but it still requires a certain amount of discernment. Continue reading here.








I had to sound interested, but not desperate, sensual but not sexual, casually prompt but not anxious, alluring but not seductive. So In the emotional balancing act that is the texting game, where a girl is subjected to her every insecurity, carefully having to weigh and measure her responses, and where assumptions could alarmingly tip the balance, I couldn’t help but wonder…why were men never on the scales? Continue reading here.







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Wednesday, December 02, 2015

FRENCH CONNECTION

Its 7.00am in the morning, my phone bleeps and I look at the text “Hello my wine glass assassin, in Dublin 19 th 20 th December, ...
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Tuesday, November 24, 2015

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR #2

It’s that time of year when the stress and strain shows, particularly with me. I’m juggling schedules like a circus buffoon, so w...
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Wednesday, November 18, 2015

DARE TO BARE?

It was most definitely a situation where less was less, and not more. I had been perusing images of some of the most fa...
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