It’s not so sexy is it?

Every three weeks or so I recreate the Psycho bathroom scene, all in the name of vanity.

Whenever I’m in hotels I worry they think I have some sort of vampire fetish when the maids have to collect my towels the next day.

Red hair comes at a price, don’t let anybody tell you differently.

…and it was lovely, thanks for asking.

I had only been once before, same time of year but in 2006. This trip was very different, I went on my own, didn’t indulge in cheesecake, and I learnt a lot. I knew I was supposed to learn stuff, I was going to a conference after all, but I didn’t expect to come back having learnt what I had.

All in all, a very nice trip. I’m writing a proper real estatey article about it for The Negotiator, assuming it’s put online as well as in the magazine I’ll link to it here when it’s published. On this blog, well, I’m not so into chatting real estate ya know?

It was very nice to be spoilt for a week, I won’t miss that feeling in a hurry.

If you’re going to NYC any time soon, here are some do’s and don’ts to help you on your travels…

• Don’t eat before travelling by cab, you will vomit.
• Don’t speak loudly with a British accent, people will gather around you in awe.
• Don’t drink rum. Don’t drink rum. Don’t drink rum.
• Don’t think about the environment when standing in Times Square. The flashing lights are pretty, the polar bears will have to get over it.
• Don’t bother exchanging your pounds for dollars. There are enough drunk people in every bar to ensure you don’t have to spend a penny.
• Do go to Pravda in SoHo for amazing cocktails.
• Do wear tights under trousers if going in Winter. It may not be sexy, but it’s practical. Actually, who says it isn’t sexy? I secretly enjoy wearing tights under trousers.
• Do what you feel like doing, there’s nothing fun about being a slave to a travel guide.
• Do eat streetfood. Whether it falafel of Kosher franks…it’s yummy.
• Do look up, it’s dizzying in a cute way.

See it says ‘Pop’…they knew I was coming baby!

More pics here.

Someone on Twitter was talking about how they’d reached their 4 year blogging anniversary and it got me wondering as to when I wrote my first blog post. I knew my email address (my hotmail one) turned 10 last summer, but when did I first don my blogging cap?

After some digging around trying to remember the URL to the darn thing, it turns out my first blog post was on April 26th, 2005. The blog, lovingly known as Pop*n*Fresh, can be found here (WARNING: there’s muchos swearing and debauchery, if easily offended).

I was in my final year of Sixth Form College studying Economics, History, Psychology, European Studies and Film Studies. I had been rejected by Cambridge, worked in kitchens, still drove a car and I regularly spent weekends chinwagging with the likes of Max Clifford and Frank Lampard. I spent a lot of my time drunk…

I kept up with that blog pretty regularly until its eventual demise in January 2006. It’s been pretty emotional to read all the posts as it was a pretty life-changing time. Caroline and Daniel, two of my most gorgeous, beautiful and naughty friends, died. I left college, left home, moved to London, started university and met the man that I’ve lived with ever since.

I’m pleased I found that blog. It’s nice to look back at a slightly wilder time :-)

Oxford Street epitomises everything I dislike about London, it’s crowded, dirty, there’s too much traffic and it’s full of tourists who decide to consult their A-Zs in the middle of the pavement (when they’re not rubbing you up the wrong way with their wallets full of super-strength Euros).

That being said, I discovered a Cinnabon on New Oxford Street today, I’ve never seen one in London before so that was rather exciting. I somehow or other came to the conclusion that a ‘caramel pecanabon’ was healthier than what I was planning to have for lunch (burger, chips and lashings of garlic mayo at Eagle Bar Diner) and promptly shelled out £4 (yes, four bloody pounds) for something that after three mouthfuls made me feel very sick indeed…

After the consumption of a month’s worth of calories I hit the shops.

I did very well I have to say. I kept my breathing under control, kept myself plugged into the iPod as to drown out the sound of teenagers bickering about the last pair of discounted skinny jeans, and rid myself of Gregory at the sign of the first shop allowing me to concentrate on the mammoth task at hand. I bought a couple of pairs of luverly trousers, a dress, a strappy top, some funky long cardigans and these more gorgeous-than-thou shoesies…

Every girl needs shoes covered in diamonds. Okay, they’re not *real* diamonds but they are very sparkly in a way that the camera on my phone simply can’t convey.

I was wearing my canary yellow Burberry mac so I couldn’t buy anything in Selfridges (I didn’t want to clash with the bags) but that wasn’t really an issue in the end as everything on sale ranged from icky to hanus. There was a massive queue at Louis Vuitton which made my blood boil, I only needed to get a 2009 diary refill so I didn’t see why I had to join the queue but ho-hum.

After bumping into Jason from Take That on Bond Street I decided it was time to call it a day. My feet were blistered, my bags were heavy, and I had vowed to move away from London and never return.

Once I got back to my flat I tried on my purchases (a savvy shopper never attempts the queues for the changing rooms during Sale Season) and I quickly realised I’d been a bit optimistic when I thought I hadn’t gained a clothes size.

Oh well, the cardigans are long…nobody need know that I can’t do up the buttons on my new trousers!