Natural beauty

I thoroughly enjoyed Suzanne Moore's article on the changing face of the perceived feminine ideal on the Guardian website. Click here to read it and let me know what you think of it too.

The Hate List 1

So, the postman obviously put his back out trying to carry all my Valentine's cards and gifts on Monday... oh well. Onwards and upwards, and to show I'm really not bitter, here is my first (of many, I'm sure) rundown of those little things that niggle me.

1. Three-quarter length sleeves; Just no. When is there ever an appropriate weather condition for these abominations? And why to manufacturers insist on making a great deal of attractive jumpers lacking in the sleeve department? Does anyone love their forearms that much? Have the fast fashion bigwigs never experience that cringey feeling on trying to put anything over three-quarter sleeves without getting that disgusting feeling bunchy weird arm look? And don't even get me started on 'bracelet length' coats and jackets. Ten types of wrong.

2. Maxi dresses; Now, don't get me wrong, on the right person, the maxi dress can look stunning, however, this person is usually nearly 6 ft. I am, however, only 5ft3in. Why can't they do a petite-maxi? It would be the perfect oxymoronic dress.

3. Leather; (except shoes of course, I'm not vegan or nuttin'!) Face it, although the rags might tell us that a pair of leather shorts or a leather mini is a must-have, there are very few people who can pull it off without looking like a dominatrix or Jeremy Clarkson, or both. I don't even look good in leather jackets. My last foray into the biker chick look (a gorgeous sage green ToSho number) made me look like Roy Cropper. Seriously.

4. Not glamming up; I admit that I am writing this whilst wearing a particularly fetching pair of tartan pyjama bottoms and a man's tee, but that is acceptable as nobody is going to see me like this. I just get upset with people who haven't looked in a mirror before subjecting me to their 'style'. And do not even get me started on people who don't make any effort on a night out, as least put on a nice top if you insist on wearing jeans, jeez! I'm not asking everyone to stick on a low cut dress and a pair of stillettos, but well... actually I am!

5. Bikinis that you cannot swim in; this surely needs no explanation.

6. Leggings worn as trousers; I love leggings, I really do. But they should only be worn under dresses or tops that are long enough to cover your front bum.

Have you got any more for me? Or maybe I've struck a nerve with you?

Au revoir Paris!

I'm leaving my strangely tranquil student life in Paris behind now. I haven't enjoyed my time here as much as I thought I would but I will definitely miss certain aspects of this gorgeous city. Like the fashion (obviously), it seems a cliché, but everyone always looks so well put together here. It's perfectly normal to turn up to a lecture in heels and lippie, and there are a lot fewer Uggs stomping the pavements. [Ugg boots make everyone's ankles look fat, they're bad for your feet, breed bacteria, and they're just plain UGGly. Bin them.]

I will also miss the amazing food. I don't know how everybody is so skinny when all they seem to eat is bread, cheese and pastries and meals hardly ever come served with vegetables! I have been trying to convince the French girls I live with that English cuisine isn't THAT bad (we DO have fish and chips and pasties), but seriously, we need to up our game a bit.

But with the positives come the negatives. Firstly, students here are WEIRDLY serious. They are so guarded. It's frowned upon to try and make conversation in class, and God forbid you suggest going to get coffee together! It's so different from the hedonistic student life we live in the UK.

Secondly, there is very little for young people do in Paris. There are clubs of course, but you need to be either rich or stupid (or both) to afford them. Taxis are near-impossible to find, the night buses are terrifying and the metro closes too early. Bye bye social life!

Thirdly, the men are CREEPY. Personally, I don't think it unusual for a young woman to sit in a park or in a cafe alone, but French men seem to see this as a 'come and get me, boys' sign. No, I don't want to talk to you, no, I don't think you following me home is charming, no, you have no right to stare at my boobs on the tube. It's not flattering.

Right, rant over. Must get back to the packing and cleaning. Bye bye nuns!

Introduction, because it would be weird if we were strangers...

I started a blog about a year ago, with good intentions to make it a personal account of my year abroad in Germany and France, recounting my experiences and feelings, but mainly focussing on fashion. But I wanted to make it anonymous, just in case my friends thought it was embarrassing or I hurt anyone's feelings, and also because it makes you look well mysterious. And everyone knows mysterious equals sexy.

Well, mysterious just isn't me, in fact, I am completely the opposite. I love to gossip and let pretty much everybody know what I'm thinking and what happened the night before...

So, I'm just going to be myself. Laura, 20 years old, third year student of German with French in a tiny mid-Welsh town, Somerset born and bred. I love dressing up, I love every genre of music, I love drinking pints, I love cocktails, I love dancing, I love food and eating.

I'm chronically single, but I always seem to find these boys (yes, they're just boys...) to play these strange little 'non-committal but don't you dare look at anyone else and if I drunk text you at 3am you'd better reply' games with. Ultimately, it usually ends with me having a mini-breakdown and them settling down with a proper girlfriend.

Since last June, my life has been a whirlwind. I moved to Berlin for three months, where I worked for the shoe label Zeha Berlin as a PR and Marketing Praktikantin. This was a fantastic opportunity, but I was treated as a bit of a dogsbody by the bosses, but luckily the other girls that worked there were friendly and took me seriously. My time spent in Berlin reaffirmed my belief that it is the city for me. It's so vibrant and alternative, its shabbyness and the liberal attitudes of the people that live there just feel so right to me. I was so upset to leave my life there.

In September, I moved to Paris to spend a semester studying at la Sorbonne, possibly the only French university you'll have heard of. Well, it ain't all that. And Paris isn't all that either. OK, it's beautiful, but there is no subculture, nothing for young people to do, and the young people themselves are weirdly reserved to the point of unfriendliness. But at least they look good.

This Friday, I'm leaving France and my life with nuns near the Champs Elysées, for some much needed rest and relaxation back in Taunton. For a month and a half, I'll have time to get myself reacquainted with the British hight street (oh, how I've missed thee Primark!!), enjoy some clean air and prepare myself for my next voyage. I'm moving to Düsseldorf, exotic, I know.