Archives for the month of: July, 2013

Grace Coddington stares up at me as I type. Her pale skin intricately lined with experience and a no-shit determination emphasises the piercing pin-point eyes. They stare up at me from my thumb while I deal with the praises and complaints of the nation.

it sounds a bit odd doesn’t it? I suppose it is really. To have an idol on your thumb. Let me explain.

Whilst wandering the open road of Regent Street, I was asked whether I would like the face of a woman of influence as a nail wrap. Was it free? The lady who answered had a 20s bob cut and bright pink lips. Yes. Great. Out of the images that were available, I chose Grace.

Artist Phoebe Davies has collaborated with women’s groups across the country in order to question the attitudes of women today and to explore the expectation of female figures in society. After accepting the portable art and walked off on my way, I began to wonder what this little figure on my thumb meant to me. Any woman (or man come to that) who have met their own expectations and who are able to say truthfully – I have done well for myself  – is someone who I hold with the highest respect.

Grace Coddington – “All I know is that if I continue in fashion, no matter what, my head will always remain firmly attached to my body.”

Bam. That’s it. She creates for fashion and for herself.

Dorothy Parker, an American  writer and poet I have recently discovered wrote prolifically about the life and the loves of people – real people. She sculpts her characters with such masterful fingers that the reader can hear the charge of the voices and see their faces – drunk, debauched, depressed but always animated – “But I shall stay the way I am, Because I do not give a damn”.

Delicious rebelity to remain truthful to yourself.

Words of wisdom from wise women.

What has this got to do with food? Can we eat words? No. Do we read food? No. But we consume both.

Creativity can come from all over the place and with both of these incredible women producing work that remains fresh and beautiful, there is the constant hope that food can be created with this continuous excitement.

Food of Fortune

Broad beans, Courgettes, Lemon, Godminster Black Pepper Brie, Parsley, Mint, Lettuce


Rosie x


I have tried writing this post so many times over the last 6 months.

I could try and pretend that it was due to early mornings and nine o’clock bedtimes. I could say that perhaps it was due to my new miniature bedroom not having a desk to speak of. I could say that I have had writer’s block and have been unable to find the words.

I could say all of these things and yet all of these would be excuses that mean little to you, the reader, or to my neglected Champagnewithrosie. So. I will tilt my nose to the sky and stride myself past these useless excuses, barging my way towards the second half of 2013 with eyes wide open. Please bear with me while I refocus my lens.

A New Start.


July has brought the Sun. Talk of the air feeling ‘humid’, ‘stuffy’ and my personal favourite ‘muggy’ has hit the streets of London with great gusto. My walk to work every morning takes me through a confusing sensory tunnel. Wild roses, exhaust fumes, new tomatoes, chlorine, baked bread and freshly applied deodorant, elbow and tussle each other, in the manner of the 8 o’clock commuters, towards my nostrils. Where the morning’s frame of mind decides whether the pleasant or unpleasant will succeed.

It is the British way to complain in whispers, with a slight pinch of the lips, or with just a carefully practiced look. Get them to voice that complaint and it is highly and phenomenally embarrassing. We just can’t handle it. For the last few months, I have been trying to distract myself from any such sour thoughts by surrounding myself with ‘things’ that at that time will make me happy.

Though I have purchased books, posters, treated myself to manicures, developed an unhealthy addiction to pitta bread and hummus, the only thing that has completely succeeded in making me obscenely happy are my tomato plants. Don’t say it! I know. It’s sad. My relationship (and I did just call it that) with my tomatoes has been lengthy and turbulent. They have been nursed from lanky sprigs of unpromise to the towering pillars of opulence that now stand so proudly in my South London courtyard garden. So much can be said for home-growing and I feel genuine pride at my accomplishment. (Please don’t laugh!)

However, I had to leave my budding tomatoes for 5 days while I went back to my parents. It was tough, and I worried almost obsessively for their welfare. But we got through it, and I arrived back to find them as cheery and happy as when I left them. This ‘weening’ from my tomato plants forced me to look again at the life that I have created for myself in London. Focussing on small sections of it in great detail has led to a huge neglect in other parts. A refocus is necessary and this is the beginning of it. How I shall do this is not quite certain at the moment. But it will be done! (And champagne with Rosie will become a reality!)

Rosie x