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Adios..


Tomorrow is my penultimate day at Vogue.

I will be free!  Free from the tumultuous unpaid existence as an intern.

And I feel very sad to be leaving. After all, it has been my first proper stint in grown-up world and I was getting quite comfortable there, without the every other day hangovers and constant impending essays at University. Photoshoots, Fashion week- I couldn’t have asked for a better place to work. Despite the one time that I had to run around Madrid in a torrential downpour collecting clothes, trying to protect a 600 euro fur jacket from the rain with my measly umbrella and then getting chased around a very bizarre, very expensive shoe boutique by a greyhound, still guarding that godforsaken coat, it’s been a very smooth run.

It seems like everyone is trying to bombard me with as much work as they can in my last week before I leave. But I’m trying to drink it in and remember it all. At least my name will be immortalised in the glossy pages of the past 9 issues and the next few to come. And thankfully I have one month left to play in the sunny streets of Madrid before hometime.

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Magical Madrid

I love Madrid.

They really know how to celebrate bank holiday weekends here, and this one is the most popular as it’s the festivo de San Isidro. The lantern lit streets are tinted with a 24 hour buzz from Thursday onwards and crammed with the young and old alike.

Watching the hubbub below from 6th floor balconies, spectacular views, dancing in squares with fountains and bongos, dancing to the big band in the palace gardens, 6am metro home, tintos de verano at dusk, i have never,  sun kissed skin, drinking cañas, La Latina. Delightful.

Now I have what is called the delayed Monday hangover and I need to sleep.

I never want to leave this place..




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still love you

As my ex housemates all know, when i tidy my room i a) have to have someone sitting on my bed talking to me while i am doing it or b) have a show on in the background.

today it was the o.c. season 3 and it never fails to make me realise how much i truly love rachel bilson.




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treats from the flea market



the rastro is bargain basement.
the big leather bag smells of cow
i need febreeze

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502 copy and pastes later.


502 copy and pastes does give you repetitive muscle strain. Click click click. On Friday I had to copy and paste 502 photographs from style.com’s 2009 accesories report to a Word document for my boss- the best “bags, shoes and jewels” from this season’s collections.

Don’t get me wrong, I love looking at clothes, but approximately 100 items in my eyes were starting to turn square and I had the images of platform shoes, fur boots and studded clutch bags burned into my retinas. On that note, there were 5 special pieces that have stuck, beating the other 497... and oh how beautiful they are:

Miu Miu studded fur leather boot, Viktor & Rolf suede drapery clutch, Chanel thigh high boot, Tom Binns Get Real collection necklace, Proenza Schouler studded biker boot.

















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too hot to sleep.

With the no-tights short shorts and sandal wearing weather, comes dirty old viejos verdes. That’s Spain for you. i smell of suntan lotion, i can't bare to sleep under my duvet and at the weekend, i had a 4 hour battle with a mosquito in the early hours. A can of L'Oreal Elnett was my chosen weapon.

Summer is here. Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

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The post-it always sticks twice.


In the current climate of economic unease it seems to be becoming more difficult to get away from the words credit crunch, or, as the Spaniards like to call it “crisis”. However,  I have to be honest- I haven’t really seen firsthand the knock on effects of this new age of austerity. Perhaps it’s because I intern at one of the leading fashion magazines of the world, where opulence, luxury and high fashion are paramount. Fashion world and economic crisis are two terms that do not complement each other well.

The only significant way I have been affected by the recession is the pound-euro exchange rate, making everything for me here in Madrid SO expensive- I’m having to buy Carrefour’s own brand sweet corn instead of my beloved Green Giant. And I’m trying to avoid Madrid’s only Topshop at all costs. Call me uninformed but other than that, I am living in blissful ignorance. I am, after all, a student- and a bad one at that. Student’s are supposed to be poor. For the first 2 years at Uni I refused to buy Sainsbury’s basics, carried on eating at Pret at every opportunity, and continued to shop to my heart’s content whenever any pieces of coursework had been stressing me out too much.  

Other than that, I can see no other real way in which the crisis affects me personally. Unemployment has risen; I understand this much, and it’s my friends who will be graduating and unfortunately not continuing to grace Bristol with their presence next year who could be looking at a hard time. I’ve received an excess of emails for talks on “How to find employment during the economic crisis” and have read in my Uni paper “what the real value of Bristol degree is during the recession”. I find this all quite intimidating and I will cross this bridge when I come to it. Thankfully I have one year left of being a student and right now as a mere intern my job isn’t on the line. Like I said before, blissful ignorance.

Last week, I sat at my desk pondering about the changes I’ve seen in my department due to the economic situation. Unemployment rates at the moment in Spain are worse than in England, yet the only noticeable changes I could think of was the fact that I am no longer allowed to send out copies of the magazine to other countries. Oh, and the stationary cupboard is no longer full of veritable treats of highlighters, waterproof pens, felt tips and different coloured post it notes. I have to reuse my post-it notes now. Hard times indeed.

I hadn’t realised the implications of the crunch until that fateful day, when, whilst I was un-sticking my post its from lookbooks, one of the assistants in my department came over to say a teary goodbye, consequently informing me that two (the only two) fashion assistants in my department had been fired, just like that, and now it was up to us. The interns.

I was, and still am stunned and gutted. The assistants were like the older sisters of the department, and were always so patient with my Spanish. They knew everything. They knew how to arrange DHL pickups, which show rooms carried what brands, where to get a steel telephone and a 1950s typewriter from....... In short- if I messed up or didn’t know something, I would go to them. Everyone would go to them. 

And if that wasnt enough, the lovely post guy that would come round the whole of our building has been reassigned to head of the Condé Nast mail department, because the previous receptionist has been fired. He delivered all our mail directly to my desk and pick up all outgoing mail without me having to lift so much as a fingernail.  Now this means that we have to go down to the basement and collect all the post. Everyday. A lot of people post a lot of things to my department. 

So, back to work today as per usual. Now I am fashion assistant and intern and postwoman rolled into one. Picking up the pieces and completing the work they’ve left. It’s going to be a long month.......