Toasted

Just touched down in Londontown!
What a wild weekend.
Yesterday we took the wedding train to… The north.
And today we took the hangover express back to London.
Somewhere in the middle was an amazing wedding. In an amazing venue. With amazing people. And amazing food (and a lot of amazing wine and champagne to wash it down with). Followed by some amazing throwing of shapes. Some amazing fireworks and…. Then it gets a bit blurry. A bit more amazing wine and possibly some less amazing dancing?
I was toasted!
So now it’s time for me to toast the groom and groom, to Piers and Will!

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(Nice) Airport is My Runway

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Anyone who is anyone is jetting into Nice airport this week for the Festival de Cannes.
You know me (and Victoria B) and the dolls; the airport is our runway. So here we are. All dressed up, with somewhere to go?

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You better believe it.
(Follow the hilarious journey on twitter/instagram)
But who are we sharing the airport with…
Vanessa Paradis? Fancy running into you, this way to the airport bus…

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Hey Florence (sans la machine), the dolls are super busy, could you sign some autographs to keep the BOTD fans happy? Ta very much.

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Ooh look. Lana Doll Rey.

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Carey Mulligan! You’re getting a lot of coverage on Barbie of the Day this week. Remind me to give you my Botox dealer’s number, luv ya.

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Ooh. Top Mo-Doll, Cara! Looking faboosh as ever. That is some ridonculous airport get up you are working there. We know how hard it is to look so amazeballs when travelling.

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Maddest airport look obviously goes to Fan Bingbing…

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But how did she get this enormous dress in that tiny LV case?

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That’s all. See you on the other side.

Spring Clean

It is important to know when your house/wardrobe/general hoarding has gotten out of control.

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That was last week.
This is this week….

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Well almost.
The treehouse has had a major spring clean.
Apols for the radio silence.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder as they say so I know you will still be loving me and everything I’m gonna serve up this week.
Xxx

Back to Black (part 37)

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And so to work…
No bank holiday for us, here in France… Well we had ours last Wednesday… And another one this Wednesday… And one on Thursday in Monaco… But you know. We all work really hard!
It may be sunny outside but the dolls have got on their Monday best, to start the week properly at BOTD Towers.
Office chic doesn’t have to be boring but somehow the dolls have stepped away from their usual slutty funeral chic and opted for something… Well a bit too sensible. Obviously not one of them thought to put their hair up but even so. I might have to insist on Bikini Tuesday tomorrow.

Le Salon Floral

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I am known all the time now and then to slag off the beautiful slice of paradise in which I spend a big chunk of the year, for being something of a cultural void.
(I’m back in France by the way.)
But whoa! Tie me to a Provençal market and call me Jean Baptiste! Villefranche Sur Mer is experiencing a major (agri)cultural event this weekend.
Le Salon Floral.
The dolls are rocking some Spring chic…

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…and along with the basil and rosemary I bought in Italy this week, I’m feeling very green fingered.
A bit of colour blocking. A splash of (bang on trend) citrus coloured soucis-can’t think of the English.
It is what the garden at BOTD Towers is crying out for.

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Overweight?

There must be some mistake.

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I mean…
I can’t possibly be overweight. For Ken’s sake, I only eat dust and Martini! The occasional crushed ice sandwich (with no bread, obvs) if I get peckish. So it’s impossible that I’m overweight…

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Oh my bags are overweight! I understand now.
Yes I suppose I did bring rather a lot of clothes up to Hull. And shoes, yes. And hats. And okay okay I get the picture, listen, lady, if I slip you a bottle of wine will you let me and all my excess baggage on the plane?

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And that, readers, is how we got back to France with all our luggage and no extra fees.

Black and White and Red All Over

Last cheated BOTD (for a while) I promise!
And last BOTD about Queen of the Nile. I know you’re over the personal and would much rather me harp on about some badass fashion and flashy press releases about Rihanna collaborating with Chomp bars (OMG imagine?!?)

But as we wait for the reviews, who better to entertain us than Red Hot Reviews™ Barbie® …

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Yes that is her name. I love the trademarking! Google her! How amazing is her coat? And dress? And bag?
She’s totes fierce and is smizing away praying for good reviews. Familiar much?

Heaven in Hull

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So we’ve rocked up in Hull.
It is exciting.
It is tense.
It is windy!
Mr F gave me a guided tour of both the Hull Truck theatre and the city itself this morning.
This is what I learnt…
The set looks amazing. I’m excited.
There is a huge shopping centre which sits right next to the hotel. There is every essential one could possibly need: Zara, Toppers, H&M, a 24 hour gym, Europe’s biggest Tesco. I didn’t spy a Marc Jacobs but it was probably on another floor.
It is crazy windy. Crazy flat and crazy windy. They are going to build some kind of wind farm to harness this power. It will revolutionise the city/the north/the world.
I’m gonna need more hairspray. My quiff can’t take these hurricane conditions.
Best factoid! The phone boxes are white. Well a creamy white. Very Spring/Summer 2013. Love it.

I’m not entirely sure how much my London Look will work here. I rocked up in something quite casual (see above) and I’ve spied some über fashion queens working some catwalk looks. There is handily a gay bar opposite the hotel in which one is sure to observe tous les trends de Hull.
Unsure of what to wear I am slipping into a phone box to try on something more discrete so I can observe….

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Tripping

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So long, London!
In case you don’t follow on Twitter/Facetube/stalk me, my other half has written a play opening in Hull on Friday so I’m going up to lend support.
FYI it is called Queen of the Nile. It is on at Hull Truck. Tickets can be bought…. Here!
It has been an exciting few weeks of rehearsals in London but now it’s time for the real thing so the dolls have packed their bags and we’re heading north.
Obviously we are planning an en route trip to see my mum in card-hoard city. Literally a card hoarder.
What fun!
See you in Hull!

Balthaz-arbie

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Guess where we went for tea last night….
Nope. Not Pizza Hut.
Balthazar.
The brand new London version of the fantabulous New York brasserie.

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Picture the scene.
SATC Season 1, (I’m pretty sure) enter Samantha and Carrie.
The girls try to blag their way into the restaurant and Samantha explains to the stone faced girl at the door that they are both ‘kind of somebody’. In the end, it takes Carrie to give the receptionist (apparently the most powerful woman in town) a tampon in the loo. This is all to show how exclusive the restaurant is. Or something.
So we went. Pre-theatre. Not dressed as Sex and the City characters (imagine!).
And we hadn’t booked. Which Mr F always freaks out about.
And we were seated at the bar.
Which was nice.
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And it was busy.
Really busy.
No Carrie Bradshaw
No Harper Beckham who has been papped there twice since it opened last month.

(FYI this is my fave Balthazar photo of all time…)

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Wait!
Zoom out…

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How we laughed..

Meanwhile…
I ordered some wine which was really expensive for house wine delicious.
And we looked at the menu.
And it was stupidly expensive. £4.50 for a portion of chips. Well you can imagine Mr F’s reaction.
But I was going for one reason.
Well two if you count pretending I was Carrie Bradshaw.
The reason was the French onion soup (£6?).
Which looked a bit like this…

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Thanks Guardian for the image. Here’s the recipe apparently.
And it was amazing. And if I’d had a sandwich beforehand and only ordered half a lager and lime then it would have been a cheap night out.
Almost.
But it is stupidly overpriced. And even though the staff are possibly the nicest in London, I can’t eat them.
What’s sad is that it could be amazing if it was the same price as Zedel which is only the other end of Soho and is my current fave dining room. You can order whatever you like in there. You know nothing is a million pounds.
Balthazar is just a brasserie. But it’s more expensive than, say, Soho House/Dean St Townhouse which feels way more of a treat.
And I didn’t like the soap. It smelt all soapy. It was Occitane. But not one of the nice smells. Just soap smell and in that Occitane way it lasted all through Act One at the theatre.
But I would go back for the soup.
Maybe.
End of review.