Thursday, 11 February 2016

I have this friend that just cannot resist from telling me on an hourly basis that I am a woman of uncertain age.  Yesterday I told her that I was giving my clothes to my cousins who are 15-20, she said  "Why on earth would they want "Old bag" clothes? Well, except for her, everybody loves my dressing up rooms of clothes. They loved my wardrobe when I was young and now when I am of uncertain age, they rummage happily through the neat railings of  hats, gloves,  black dresses, jackets lipstick and pearls.
I always have love clothes, since the age of two years old,  nothing will make me give it up.
Because of my friends nagging I am always either fighting the flab or addressing age.
I decided to look for some non invention ways for staying young. I love Botox, a facelift, eating healthily, keeping my brain fit, but now I want to try the newish magic on the scene. Yesterday at my ex boyfriend's office in Wimpole Street,  Dr Jean Louis Sebagh showed me a machine that literally in minutes can refresh your face and body, breaking down the layers beneath your skin, it continues to work for many days afterwards. Of course you must stay the correct weight for your body and eat healthily. It is called Ultraformer 111. Despite being a sissy with pain, I held my friends hand.  Within minutes my pal was saying "Take the pain, you have no idea how good you are looking" I clenched my fists, and dreamt I was on a beach sunning myself.
I arrived home a little shattered, but as I looked in the mirror I realised my cheeks had indeed gone a little higher. "Fuck the planet" it worked, I immediately forgot the pain and booked in for another session.

I always think of myself as fifteen and now with the empty nest syndrome and my sons leaving, I would like to be considered for fostering a child.  I rang around to find out about it today, the girls answering the telephones were helpful and I was told it is about a 4-6 month process. Whether or not I get accepted is another question, but I feel we should all give back where we can. I have a wonderful life and would like to share the luck.
With so many children in need of a chance in life I thought I would see if I get accepted. At least I will keep busy.

On a completely different note but this time about beautiful photography. Douglas Slocombe director of photographer is 103 today. Famous for filming L Shaped Room and the Servant. So after a little beauty treatment I shall put my feet up and watch them once more.

Thursday, 4 February 2016

I decided to go back down memory lane and visit Paris, for many reasons, one to see a producer regarding the film I am doing about Egon Schiele and his world, The Cardinal and the Nun with writer Lyall Watson and to jog my broken brain cells awake, I am all for healing these days.

Visiting places I love but sadly did not see the people, I hold close to my heart, Paris is depressed,  Body Guards stand at every door and like any large City people come and go.  I visited Chantal Thomass's atelier on Rue Saint Honore, trying on lingerie, remembering seducing whilst wearing her well cut corsets. I walked to the beautiful Rodin Museum to relive the romance of Camille Claudel and Rodin, whose magnificent sculptures in Saint Germain are one of my greatest pleasures to see. I bought tissue wrapped lilac and pink roses for an 80 year old friend from 64 Rue de Longchamp, all florists are wonderful in Paris but here I bought flowers from my apartment.  I stayed in Hotel Costes where the smell of the bedrooms, took me back to romances I had from 1995 up until three or four years ago, when I shut the door of my beloved studio at Rue Mechain, the atelier of  artist,Tamara de Lempicka. I want to go back and live again the thoughts I had, but they are far away and in my memory bank, with only a few good emails and a tea set with some rings to prove they existed at all.

Instead I visited the men on Tinder and discovered that Tinderella lives in a big computer with a wicked step Mother who looks like Caitlin Jenner.  My "in box" inundated with mice who were in fact bigs rats, but just a bit further away. There was no Prince, as Caitlin turned the tomcat into the handsome Prince 25 years ago. The tomcat turned round to her and the first question he asked was, as he kissed her beautiful collagen lips, "Don't you wish you hadn't  doctored  me twenty years ago?" Despite pressing 'enter' it is not going to make any difference. This is how I feel about Tinder this week. Real life romances cannot be found on these average sites, they are found on trains, cinemas, and living unexpected moments.
I just clicked on three different profiles, two men and woman because I like to feel up with the times, only  to reveal that when I went to meet them all, they were and looked like the same person.  I knew I liked the same type but this seemed absurd? I was assured that it/her/him only liked to be called Wendy at week ends. I was confused  because although I live most of the time in an Ivory tower, I enjoy my days in a dungeon where people look happiest.
In the dark corners I hear "Don't be mean darling, please hit me again, after all it's my turn this week"
The profiles I get sent look like ugly "Russian" girl sites where the men and women lie in bed with fish heads all over themselves, trying to play the part of  'Siren' out of Greek mythology, as they lure the ships to crash onto rocks, they comb and cover their hair and beautiful bodies. with shells, turning their bodies into waves.
Can't wait for tomorrow and remember I am the witch with the bucket of water.
I am all modern now, I now know what LGBT's are, drinking my GT with a BLT, so its sealed with SWALK, TULIP, and BURMA.
I was lucky enough to get tickets for the Automobile show on the Eurostar falling in love with cars belonging to Edith Piaf and lusting after a Ferrari with a price of thirty five million. There are real men there who tinker with their parts, not strip down an entire car leaving bits all over the drawing room rather than a sociopath who takes the bits out of a woman's head, and there are always a couple of screws left, a couple of nuts in the room and the brain left altered forever. I was a Bugatti and now I am just an Aston Martin, although in perfect condition, with almost one careful owner.  Its not what is wrong with you, it is who is wrong with you.
On the subject of dating whether it is meeting at the bus stop, grinder tinder etc. Some details should not be told.
There are some straight men left, there is a popular belief that on the sliding scale is some kind of shade of grey not black and white. I celebrate all my gay friends, the clothes, the hairstyles etc, but as a hot blooded female I would like to find a hot blooded male. There is not problem with any genetic structure, I would like to meet my handsome Prince, actually a duke at the very least. Just a word of advice boys, You can tell the boys about the girls, but don't tell the girls about the boys as we do not want to hear it.
I was able to forget the passion I had in the long Summers when the wives leave their husbands during their vacations and the husband's relive a fantasy or two, the girls, well they get by with a gift or two, except for me, an English girl who was naive enough to have some feelings left. Smelling the oil and leather of the historical cars was comparable to the signature smell at Costes Hotel, only new and ready to be explored.

Sunday, 24 January 2016

I have wanted to take photographs of Sofia Dimitrova for many years. Her abilities are far reaching from Singing to Cooking, she reminds me of another time. Her enthusiasm to play and dress up in character for each shot was so invigorating. Equally fun was working with Inesa and Barrington de la Roche from The Dark Theatre,  Emma O'byrnne who did the make up, and Natalia Souza who did  hair inspired by opera singer Maria Callas, actress Rita Heyworth and artiste Dita Von Teese who once danced with a huge glass in my garden in Beverly Hills for the launch of my photographic book Cloak and Dagger Butterfly.
Two months ago I travelled to Vana to hear Sofia sing in her native town in Bulgaria.
She and my son Charles Eliasch sang beautifully together a huge repertoire from Cole Porter
to Mefistofele by Arrigo Boito.



Wednesday, 20 January 2016

As a child I would sit with my grandfather, the writer, film director and producer, Sidney Gilliat, he taught me to appreciate film scores. I loved the score for his film Endless Night which was written by Bernard Herrmann.
Today music scores are brilliant but similar. More variety is needed it occurs when you mix cultures up. The film world is not mixed up, everybody is a friend of a friend and  there is so much unrecognised talent out there. I go to smaller festivals where I see films that hardly get aired because they do not have big names attached. Perhaps Charlotte Rampling is right however when she says that "racial diversity is racist to white people?" Perhaps other cultures like performing more rather than creating music? No doubt about it, you have to be incredibly ambitious as well as talented to get ahead.

Nainita Desai
In England the  composer  Nainita Desai will no doubt go to Hollywood for an Oscar, last year she wrote a  BBC documentary musical called Mumbai High set and filmed in a school in India with children who had no prior knowledge of performing and music. It was  moving, it is up for a BAFTA. This is the diversity I am talking about.
Where are the  black composers, the Oriental composers etc?.  Since 1987 George Fenton and Jonas Gwangwa for Cry Freedom, no black composer has composed a score for a likely award winner. There was the Indian Film Slumdog Millionaire won in 2008 with its score by A.R Rahman. Here is the list. Of course black performers have won in the song department.  There is not enough diversity in the Film World generally. Women achieved considerable success this year with so many excellent scripts  Carol, The Danish Girl . Cate Blanchett and Alicia Vikander surely shine, yet behind the scenes, the statistics are shabby. The composers chosen this year are represented by mostly the same agent, however good he is, the unsaid tells you everything you need to know about Hollywood.


This year I am delighted that at last Ennio Morricone is nominated. Of course he has won so many awards but the Oscar is something special and any composer who spends his life in film will tell you that. It is not their raison d'être, rather the cherry on the cake So far he has only won it for "Life Achievement" not for any particular score. One thing we should remember is a quarter of the music was already written for a horror film called The Thing. Does that actually meet the requirements?.

Should John Williams win for the score of Star Wars that he has already won the first time round in 1978? That seems a little dull too.

I noticed that last year's Oscar winner,  Alexandre Desplat did not get any real recognition for his score for The Danish Girl, a film which left me speechless for three weeks when I saw it at The Venice Film Festival. If you watch the film properly it cannot fail to move you. Desplat got nominated in the Globes. The film is so topical now with Transgender patients, I can imagine it could have made the old Academy shudder as they are from another world. Gender is merging so for me The Danish Girl was bang up to date. Caitlin Jenner needs a little more support?

Last year  I appreciated Johan Johansson's mechanical ability but he copied phrasing from the Desplat score for The Imitation Game with very recognisable moments from  Kings Speech and Extremely loud and incredibly close, the reality was Desplat was nominated three times. But now Sicario? This time phrasing from Black Sabbath? The second number on the score is from Iron Man.  I mentioned this last year in my blog Music score crunch

I was happy to see Carter Burwell nominated for his score of Carol, I loved it, his score was so strong, I left the cinema singing the main theme. A wonderful film, beautiful costumes and strong story.
Thomas Newman's score is not his best but its very accomplished as he always is for Bridge of Spies, but not award worthy.
The Revenant, in my opinion, is one of the worst scores ever by three composers just did not work, composed by Japanese musician Ryuichi Sakamoto, Bryce Dessner and Alva Noto. It is too jumbled up. The film itself is excellent, except the riding ability of certain actors.


A few years ago we complained about women not having enough equality in show business generally, let alone racial diversity. It seems intelligent to employ well known composers as too much money is at stake to make errors,  but the other side is that it makes for ultimately boring perfection. In the Lebanese culture, perfection is not attractive, story telling is the most interesting thing. People respond to emotions not anything perfect, pure and clean.  Perhaps the education is lacking? The other problem is that the voters for the Academy are over 60 and male, giving opportunity to their friends, 94 percent are white, 76 percent men with an average of 63 years old, there will be bias.  Imagine the scenario, they are having lunch on a boat at The Ivy, they chatter.
Equally Blacks and Oriental writers could write more for black/Oriental performers, and give work to composers of their choice. It just takes an iPhone to start, and then send it off to The New Media Film Festival.. Come on Agents, Writers, Producers, Casting Directors, The Academy, have a little more imagination, let creativity grow, be daring and the world is full of magic.

Saturday, 16 January 2016

Thursday, 14 January 2016

I really do not know what to say, that is new and not already covered.  The greatest loss in music this week has to be David Bowie's creative exit from the planet.  The humour which he kept to the end, only reminds us how much we will miss this genius.
For a short time I lived in Eland Road in Battersea and I remember seeing Angie his ex going in and out of her house there. Short spiky hair, and a whole lot less noticeable than she is today on Big Brother. She was elfin like, pale, ghostly. I didn't ever really speak to her, in those days celebrity was only a trifle exciting. We are talking about 1980, when it was not fashionable to be flashy, famous or rich. Money was not our GOD it was before Thatcher changed England. It was quieter.
Bowie's music resonated with the plainer version of Amanda, he was exotic yet he talked about "the girl with the mousy hair" He was before I got hold of some peroxide and changed myself into a copy of an Hollywood Starlet.
Anybody who knows his music cannot fail to miss him.

Then we have had to say good bye to Alan Rickman, I will never ever forget him starring in  Les Liaisons Dangereuses a play written by Christopher Hampton. His witty seduction of a virgin as a favour to his lover, Merteuil. His performance as Valmont, in my opinion was far greater than Malkovich's, but then I was a huge fan of the theatrical version. I was always surprised at the casting of the film despite being a fan of the director Stephen Frear's. He also had enormous sex appeal and charm. I once had dinner with him and his partner in London. Charming and erudite, he was interesting without a script, rare for any actor.
Enough said these two will surely make a swift entrance to heaven.

I have also had to cope with a family loss, it sounds so twee to say the last four letters, when I loved this private person so much. I can't go into it here. She was from another time with a displeasure of Facebook and Blogs.

Following a new years resolution,
I have also been learning to cook delightfully simple food from the Mayr Clinic in Althausee.
A few hints could keep you fit with delicious food, and so quick. It was whipped up in seconds in front of me.
A few tips.
Use Ghee and not Olive oil in a heated pan. Boiled Olive Oil can cause cancer.
If you heat the pan you do not need to use so much Ghee then.
Do not cook with onions, but with celery.
Use salt at the last minute.
Do not use water when cooking the vegetables they lose flavour.
Double as much vegetables to meat on the plate.
They cook their duck here in a bag and boil it on a low heat for 3.5 hours.

That was slightly more cheery than discovering the news of the Oscar Nominations which seem to be all over the place this year. Carol which was brilliant, was not nominated as best film, and violence and sci fi seems to be the order of the day.   Despite other people finding The Danish Girl long, I think they were tired. I totally loved it. It upset me for two weeks, perhaps it made the voters think a little too much?  I definitely loved the cinema photography by Danny Cohen and music by last years Oscar Winner, Alexandre Desplat.  This year, however Ennio Morricone should win for best music score for Hateful8, otherwise God help the Oscars. He has scored so many films and at advancing years not won an Oscar for one of them, despite his brilliant score for The Mission.  He did get an Oscar in 2007 for his work in Music.  Whether the best score or not, he deserves to win,  and not the man who does copies, he knows who he is..
Hollywood must be racking their brains, there are changes afoot, so keep your ears alert.  For the next few weeks of BAFTA's and Awards the nerves will be sharpened as a new film world comes forward for ten minutes of fame.

I need to talk about dresses at the Golden Globes 2016, yes I do, I loved them.
The best dress goes to Jennifer Lawrence, her dress, red by Dior, was totally ravishing and it suited her. The winner goes to ....Well, I also loved Alicia Vikander in Louis Vuitton, a beautiful simple white apron dress to the floor, one of the first times on the red carpet and she looked stunning.  The good thing about dresses is that you know they will be replaced, nobody cares too much.

Now let me get back to mourning and my "New Year "Resolutions.

P.S If you have time try and get to see La Soiree on the Southbank, its season is about to end, and if you want a nighttime of fun and laughter this will surely put your mood back in place, after all the brilliant people who died this week know that life is short.

Saturday, 2 January 2016

It is the new year with all good thoughts and intentions. I wanted to spend it in an unusual way. I spent it in my house cooking for my sons and for new years eve I had the good fortune to stay at the celebrity favourite, The Chiltern firehouse. I understood why, it was a wonderful night and day having lunch and dinner there. The snug in the restaurant proved intimate and discreet. Perfect for a love affair. The food unusual.  The donuts with crab are totally delicious.  The staff helpful, I organised a table for eight people at the last minute and the cheerful receptionist immediately sorted out the back dining room to entertain in private.
The room was well thought out and so charming with attention to detail. I have been dealing with life and death situations this year and the loss of close family members. Of course it is painful but normal.
I realise posterity, is a big whore, as big a whore as anything else, ah but we all believe and hope we shall be remembered. Unfortunately 15 minutes after 'we kick the bucket' we are forgotten, unless you believe you can leave something of substance to another generation.  This new years eve I had fun dreaming.
If you wish to get anywhere, the worst thing you can do is believe that somebody can help you, you must help yourself. Who cares what people think or say, just do. People will always talk, so give them lots to talk about. I believe in bravery. I believe in laughter. I believe in doing.
I am thinking what I should achieve and change this year. I am ambitious, in my brain I think I can do everything. I like that. I am a director, a dancer, a composer, a model aged 55, a fitness fanatic and so on, I feel that I too can do anything. I could make anybody green with envy with my brain. I love it because that is my reality. Occasionally some spiteful person will remind me that all is not possible or remind me that I am running out of time. I am not and anything with concentration and energy can be

I am determined not to feel guilty, that is a wasted emotion.
I would like to be useful in life to do things bigger than myself.
This morning I was so lucky having my breakfast brought to me, eggs and bacon, beautifully cooked by my lovely son Charles. I used to dream of this and now in front of me they were beautifully presented eggs. I know he can be a star. I used to say all the time I would love to be in his brain, but I am in mine and perhaps it is as good too.
I found myself saying to him "Don't jump down peoples throat and always listen to the end of the sentence"
This year I shall finish my passionate love story between the artist Schiele and his muse Wally. One way or another I shall make it. I believe in it.
That is one of my projects.
Say anything with passion and people listen.
Other ideas...
I could be an agent too.
For now I am in love with new opera singers, last year it was composers, next year perhaps dancers.? I would love to be an agent.
My favourite new Opera singers.
1. Sofia Dimtrova from Bulgaria
2. Clare Ghig from Malta
3. Corinn Springer from USA
4. Jose Daniel Mojica from Puerto Rico

Here I go and so far so good..

Wednesday, 23 December 2015

This time of year I always remember the writer Charles Dickens and the tale he told us in "A Christmas Carol". Altruism and the poverty of the 19th Century spun Dickens into a frenzy and he wrote this lasting  novella in 1843 to remind us what stinginess and greed bring. It is also a time to remember St Nicholas who has become Father Christmas, who was born in what is now Turkey, but then in 270 The Holy Roman Empire. He was a great healer and much revered as he is now.
Foolishly, this Christmas, Mr Corbyn has managed, without buying any presents or food for the table,  to "cook his goose".  He should have noticed that my favourite jungle dame, Lady Colin Campbell is the only person able to divide the country in two. Banning Christmas signifies and reminds us of the miserable Scrooge, in the scriptures it says Mohammed believed that we Christians should celebrate this time of year, despite being banned in 11 countries around the world.

As punishment Mr  Corbyn should be visited by three spectres, the first, Christmas Past in the shape of the GLC and Margaret Thatcher, who could try and take him back to a time when he was born and kill him before he becomes a nuisance to our nation. She should appear to him at the end of his bed in full 1980's power dressing, a mighty Beehive bob and a cigar.  Christmas Present should be in the shape of  Princess Diana, Barbara Cartland and Lilly Savage.  Christmas future could be the National Health Service in the mortuary, crying out for neglect and old aged pensioners freezing cold. Perhaps then he could remember that Cromwell is now considered a miserable toad, lacking colour popularity and humour.

I love getting ready for Christmas, decorating the house, buying presents, laying the table.
I was fortunate this Christmas to receive 3 Turkeys and a Goose for nine people, a very good omen for the coming year.  I tried to give them away and discovered that unless I was vetted beforehand there were no takers for my wonderful cooking, didn't they know I went to Winkfield, a finishing school that taught girls cooking, a cordon bleu school.  I enjoyed becoming a martyr from 8am in the morning until the actual serving of a delicious Christmas lunch at 4pm and finally clearing up at 9pm. In reflection I totally understand and appreciate the slightly irritable tone from my Mother, who was always overworked. I was lucky enough to play with Inesa, who is seriously inventive when it comes to recipes.
Christmas beauty
Basting the Turkey

I had a long funny day with wonderful friends from the magical Dark Theatre, Inesa and her husband Barrington creating spells together, it was everything that Christmas should be. Living in the present, it was a  celebration of friendship and family, of giving and loving each other. Nothing was mentioned about baby Jesus only in church the night before. Does this matter? No, it is about good intentions and holding hands with people you love. As Cinderella the film preaches "Kindness" is everything. Inesa  had recipes for Herrings cooked with carrots and a dangerous cake with two bottles of brandy in it. An even better recipe which included poppy seeds and milk, but took a lot of work made us all very happy.
The midnight service, the night before at St Martins in the Fields made me childlike as I sung the descants. I remember singing with a great friend in my sons Carol concerts. Each year we sat in the back and were told off for knowing and giving our all in Hark the Herald Angels Sing  as it went full pelt to sing the top G. Of course I easily used to go to a top B or C when I was young. It is still as much fun as when I was 7 years old. The words weave good feeling throughout the night.
The fun of hiding behind a mask

Whether you are a prolific lover of festivity, fun or singing, being anti, and feeling disparaging thoughts, Scrooge comes to life. As countries ban Christmas, yet Iran does not, who cares what religion we are, more to the point we should all enjoy life, give freely, help others and love them. This is the recipe for happiness and good alchemy. The ritual of tenderness, the cooking, cleaning and cuddling is so important and as I get older more interesting.
The magical potion of Poppy Seed Milk

My day was finished off with a walk in the park watched over by a full moon and the acting of howling wolves. I walked off Christmas pudding happily. Late into the night I watched my favourite  Sir Tim Rice tell tales of his musical life on BBC 2. At the moment he and Andrew Loyd Webber have put on the wonderful Wizard of  Oz throughout America, perhaps some more dreams will come true as I open my Christmas presents, luckily I received a pink pig money bank, a catalogue of artworks that are not mine but I love, and a butterfly made of mink and silver, a beautiful DNA restorer of sound by Mark Brazier Jones and a new white collar from Kay Saatchi. I am a lucky girl. Falling to sleep to a friends advice, life can be fulfilling. No need to be a "Kill Joy" Mr Corbyn. Enjoy yourself. The Queens Speech.
Thanks be to God.

Friday, 18 December 2015

Christmas is on the door step and I nearly went mad trying to find an angel for my tree this week. 
With at least eight rooms featuring different types of Christmas decorations in Harrods, I thought I was going to collapse with the heat and I got the vapours.  I feel London has been invaded by thousands of people. Leaving Harrods I was exhausted. I decided to order them by post and two promptly arrived,  as I apparently pressed the send button twice on the computer by mistake from Balsam Hill. Beautiful delicate golden angels, I could not part with one of them so kept them both.
Apart from my new tree which smells delicious also from the Balsam, there are are a lot of changes in my house this week, for a start I asked the Bay Tree in the front garden to be trimmed, instead it got chopped in half, I can't pull it down as good old Henry V111 planted it and I hate pulling down trees. The good thing is I now have far reaching views from my drawing room. 
Bored with the joke, my "White Elephant" is no longer in the house as I put it on my terrace, I think I shall cover it with my fake jewellery as it looks so happy among the old geranium plants and now he can flash my neighbours.
Some poor dog continually barks nearby day and night. Yapping, it is clearly left. I thought about rescuing it but knew that within minutes I would be caught if I climbed  into the next door garden. Seriously though why have dogs if you don't look after them?
On another grumble why is it that builders like to start work at 7.30am and then finish at 10.00am?
Next door feels as if they are going to enter my bedroom any minute as they build a huge new extension. The house clearly hates it and groans as yet another nail goes into the party wall.
Then the building on the opposite side of the river is now considered the largest building site in the whole of Europe, in the old Battersea Power Station, designed now by Frank Gehry. This time they have not used Terry Farrell for more dreary constructions, but the brilliant Frank Gehry who last year interviewed for Liberatum  Terry Farrell has already ruined Earls court by pulling down the famous architect who built Detroit, Howard Crane. I loved Earls Courts facade and do not really understand the very fast changing face of London. Let's hope that in 50 years from now Terry Farrell's hideous constructions are removed too. Anyway, these huge building projects now explain why Lorries are hooting all night and are driving at huge speeds along the embankment. I am definitely going to join Zac Goldsmith's team to fight this huge intrusion as he makes his way to becoming Mayor of London.   I do hope the golden Mr Goldsmith is not beaten to the post by Mr  Khan, England is already going to the dogs. Hope Mr Khan if he gets in is all for freedom of speech and not homophobic.

My fur coats, I gather, are now in the height of fashion on upright chairs and copies were featured in The Turner Prize by Nicole Wermer who copied Hungarian Architect and Modernist, furniture designer, Marcel Breuer.  Good news as I have been using fur this way for ages. Old news, though as the Turner Prize used to be so bang up to date and exciting.
I have checked out some portrait artists too, thinking of making sure I last forever and
I do like having my portrait done. I love having my photograph taken too, but there is something
lasting about a portrait. Years ago Bob Carlos Clarke wanted to photograph me behind bars as a convict, instead of in PVC which he usually used. I liked the idea. Instead I have had mine painted three times, twice by Theo Platt,  once by Vincenzo deMaar  which I received at my 50th birthday having never met him but featuring two heads. Snap shot photography is great but selfies do not have the same glamour as a painting.
This week saw the huge sale of Margaret Thatcher's most intimate items, I was rather appalled by the sale of her clothes, ordinary and normal tailored suits. What were the avaricious Carol and Mark thinking of? Clearly they need the cash, but really it is unthinkable to sell a wedding dress. I remember my Mother chopping up hers, a beautiful pale green wedding dress, and turning it into coat hangers. Common sense though for a second. We never own anything, we just borrow them for the time they are in our possession, so perhaps the greedy unattractive twins for once thought right?
Thank goodness I am not into Turd Art. This is the final insult to humanity as we see it. You certainly should think about giving some money away if you buy the Venus di Milo made out of turds sold for $50,000  from excrement Pandas moulded by children with a little help from artist Zhu Cheng.  Of course Chris Ofili used elephant dung, but he did it so well. Reported here in the LA Times the world is at its end, but at last I can now see a river view from my drawing room.

Friday, 11 December 2015

Thursday, 10 December 2015

Wednesday, 9 December 2015

Tuesday, 8 December 2015

Sunday, 6 December 2015

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Sunday, 29 November 2015

Several weeks ago I was screamed at for twenty minutes on a telephone accusing me of many things but one that I was a Granny.  I thought, the surgery has worked. Heaven forbid that you reach the age of a Granny? I think it is a case of trying to bully, I remember the same type of people at school? Obviously the people who said it, felt old and tacky. Previously I had done a photograph saying BooHoo to Bullying, then two weeks later it was my turn. They thought it was an insult,  that I would immediately forgive them as well? I have news for them and any others, I would love to be a Granny, those fortunate enough to get to an age of over 38, in this world, with a new born grandchild are surely blessed?. I would  enjoy the experience. There is a preconception in the world  that if you are older than 45, you are going nowhere, judging by the list of brilliant women below it seems a little inaccurate. This is all so very silly, 50 years from now none of these people will exist or be remembered. Even funnier the people accusing were over 45 themselves and one as old as 53, they think I forget, yet I was at their 30th birthday.
On top of that surely they know that anything said is better than nothing at all and is usually a reflection of themselves not of the person they are bitching about. However, I would rather people talked about me when I left the room then I do not have to thump them.

Women that are interesting  over 45 and potential Grannies are pretty spectacular. Women no longer have white curls and a row of pearls they have style panache and are capable of ruling the world. They hopefully have a grandchild too.

Marina Abramovich Artist
Belinda Carlisle Musician
Madonna Musician
Hilary Clinton Politician
Her Majesty The Queen
Crystal Brinkley Actress
Cher Musician
Dame Joan Collins Actress
Tracey Emin Artist
Elizabeth Hurley Actress
Helen Mirren Actress
Loree Rodkin, Jeweller
Marina Cicogna Photographer Producer.

and so on, never underestimate the power of the brain, time and beauty combined.

With Paris suffering a major dilemma, this all looked so petty and unnecessary. Why on earth would I want this in my life?
To get some unity in my life,  I have started to work on a new film project with my good friend for thirty years, Lyall Watson. We share a love of Egon Schiele and drama. Writing with new ideas has a brilliant way of stimulating the memory bank. Today I learnt about the creature named Krampas who haunts little children when don't behave with sticks and putting them in sacks. In villages up and down Austria children this week end will have to perform a piece of poetry or say a prayer in order not to be scolded  by this devil like creature in shape of a bear. He was obviously written about in the child stealer in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Anyway I want the part. We should bring this to the rest of Europe and the states. Sounds terrifying to me and he sounds a bit of a bully too.
In the meantime I can't wait for wedding bells in the air. I have had a proposal or two.

Tuesday, 17 November 2015

When I was sixteen and studying for O Levels. I chose Modern History. I was disappointed though as I wanted to study Henry V11, but that was not on the curriculum. There is nothing like the Tudors to excite us all, however I was entirely wrong and grateful for the knowledge that I received in those elementary classes.  In the first class we were all turned into Fascists and the second class hardly any of us interestingly were turned Communist. We had an enlightened teacher. Of course in someways the two extremist groups are similar. Equally we should not assume that Fascists are Right wing, wishing to keep the status quo, they may feel  similar, but they are entirely different.  Fascism is complex and there are variations and equally Right wing are different too. Fascism as I learnt it was meant to be socialist. They liked road building, a good education and hospitals. It is why today the Italians have great roads and so do the Germans. So back to the simplistic Fascism which was appallingly racist.

I remember the teacher saying
"If there are hooligans in the street"?
Our answer to was get the police in.
"If there are bombs in the street"?
Get everybody off the street
"If the bombs get worse"?
Close borders and call in the army.
"What do you do with the people causing the problems"
We said put them in a prison.

In the light of the tragedy on Saturday 14th November in Paris all of the above seem too familiar. They are of course necessary and essential, coming to terms with the terrorists being home bred. The world is on a fast train without breaks it seems? It is indeed global and although the foot soldiers are needed, drones can kill from an armchair millions of miles a way. It is as if we have forgotten the past and are trampling on our future. Women are being killed and time is going back to a Medieval period of no hope and misery.
If people are against refugees they may not mean the colour of their skin, where they came from, their education but indeed the fact that it is tricky to settle into a country and assimilate. To be part of a community. People think they have more rights than infact they have. We want a good education, jobs, health service provided, low taxation, a good army and police force, housing. We feel we pay for it, we feel we deserve it, but the truth is that we pay very little for all these things. If we added up our tax and went out to pay for these things separately it would be an entirely different bill.  If we really think about it, why should we have rights? Why should we expect all these things? What are we but an out of control people who have forgotten our origins. Too big egos for our abilities, too greedy, outspoken, violent, hopeless and lazy? Then there are the political shenanigans of the Middle East that seem totally out of control.
The Dalai Lama is correct in reminding us that there are too many people that are successful and what we need is healing, loving and repairing. In Bangkok the people went out and prayed on the very spot the bombs went off. Every person in this world could do the same. The unnecessary atrocities from Saturday were appalling and I feel for everybody who has suffered. I feel also for Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan where the innocent deal with these dreadful occurrences on a daily basis.
When I was little my mother bred whippets. The Whippets were snobs, the would not speak to different coloured members of the same family. They only liked the colour that they were. We are as humans naturally fearful of things we do not understand. A white dog with a blob on its head was put to the side by its Mother. I used to watch and learn from animals.
Now is the time to find the perpetrators and deal with them intelligently.
Time to heal and time to pray I think and listen.
Unfortunately the hooligans at present are disgruntled fit young men, who have little to hope for and ISIS has given them the very reason to live. With violence the more exciting option they have sadly taken their unhappiness out on people that were not able to defend themselves.They believe in an out of date world that only brings more misery.
This is a political problem mainly concerning our greed for oil and pipelines.
The Dalai Lama is still the most hope that we can offer this generation, I just hope we and they listen in time.

Monday, 16 November 2015

I feel like wearing red. It signifies Scarlett o'hara, love, passion, an Indian wedding dress and brings up the memories of that fabulous song "Lady in Red" and then there is nothing like a  red swimsuit on the beach. I probably won't wear one, but a satin red dress, slashed to the waist is damn sexy.  I am not into red or white shoes which for me are a little tacky.  I love red lipstick and red dresses only, they give you that feeling of making a dashing entrance. I also love my girl friends that dare to wear red lipstick, you know they have character.  I love lipsticks by Joan Collins, Charlotte Tilbury and Chanel, and Nar's make incredible fat pencils that are quick to repair your lips.  To be remembered always make a big entrance and a very small exit, and the "red" dress is perfect for this.  I never say good bye to anyone, just leave, I always see a little disappointment in a party givers face as you say you are leaving,  a hint of insecurity in the hostesses face as she checks to see if you enjoyed yourself. The truth is she need not worry I always enjoy myself even if I leave after five minutes which I often do.  I just leave when the feeling comes over me, and when  I have spoken to the people I love, and met some that I did not know. I have lived the life with a lucky star without the insecurity of being one.

Vivien Leigh as Scarlett o'hara in Gone with the Wind

I read this morning that the Dalai Lama suggested we should all start loving and do acts of kindness. That the earth needed healing. I quite agree with this. There were too many successful people and actually the world needs to think holistically. Luckily the Dali Lama surrounds himself with the colour red.
Rosamund Pyke

Red is the colour of love, envy, blood, passion. It also means over drawn at the bank, caught "red" handed, a communist, Red Indian for American Indians and the red-light district signifies strip
 joints. The Red Cross and Tinder, so many conflicting things. It shows you have panache with a daring outrageous side. I like it. I like to be outspoken.
This week I went to a party at the Petersham Nursery in Richmond and the hostess was wearing a full red dress by Zac Posen. I looked around the room and although everybody was well dressed, only the red dresses stuck in my memory. There was a beautiful satin red dress with ties at the back.
Here Audrey Hepburn looks glamorous as she stands on some steps in Paris.

Audrey Hepburn

As outgoing as I am, I can be shy and a red dress  would give me new confidence I am sure.
Pamela Anderson Famous red swimsuit.

Kendall Jenner


Alexander Mcqueen
Tom Ford

The cheaper versions are good too


There are so many really good ones now
I use
Joan Collins's Amanda
Charlotte Tilbury


Pixie Lott
Rosamund Pike
Kendall Jenner
Naomi Harris
Victoria Beckham
Courtney Cox
Reece Witherspoon
Kate Winslett
Phoebie Saatchi

Tuesday, 10 November 2015


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