April 25, 2006
Celia Birtwell
I've been a fan of Celia Birtwell's textiles for years. Her beautiful designs are the most original prints in the fashion business, so when I was invited to a preview of her exclusive new fashion collection for Topshop at Home House, a grand late eighteenth century mansion in Portman Square, I made sure I wore something easy to get off in a hurry, as I was determined to buy some of Celia's new clothes at the party.
It was a hellish experience trying on Celia's clothes behind a screen in a makeshift changing room, fighting with the fashion editors from Vogue and The Daily Telegraph (Hilary Alexander bought two outfits) in order to get a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Despite the barbaric changing room, which by now was heaving with fashion journalists desperate to buy a Celia original, I managed to buy an exquisitely pretty red, 'Lapis Lazuli' blouse and a green 'Golden Slumbers' dress. I would have happily bought the entire collection, but we were only allowed to buy two garments each. Some girls were even cheating by asking their friends to buy clothes for them on their behalf.
I congratulated myself on having survived the scrum and staggered into the party, clutching my pretty Celia Birtwell printed shopping bag. The spacious Neo Classical reception rooms ('just like the V & A' someone remarked) were crammed with personalities from the fashion Industry, all lining up to pay their respects to Celia.
I collapsed outside in the garden where two of Celia's best friends, David Hockney and Philip Prowse, the designer/theatre director were discussing the merits of smoking. Manolo Blahnik proclaimed, 'I'm sick of shoes', and promptly inspected everyone's footwear to see if they were his - mine weren't. Although he used to give me loads of free pairs, I can't wear very high heels any more. Who else was there? Dunno who all the guests were, but all the women were wearing Celia's prints, vintage and new.
Celia was bodyguarded by her friends and family: her partner Andrew Palmer, her daugher-in-law, Luckie (in a red Ossie Clark blouse), partner of Celia's eldest son Albert, and their pretty and talented six year old daughter Isabella, who has already been drawn/painted by David Hockney. Also, Celia's youngest son, George Clark and his wife Bella (in a vintage Ossie Clark dress), Celia's other daughter-in-law, who have both taken over her shop, Celia Birtwell in Westbourne Park Road in order to sell her classical prints from there.
The high ceiling rooms were filled with clothes dummies wearing Celia's unique prints for Topshop, and on departure we were all given a Celia Birtwell printed gift bag with a Celia printed scarf and one of her drawings.
Celia is designing a winter collection for Topshop now. However, fashion pundits beware, her current summer collection sold out at 9.5 a.m. this morning.
Posted by frances on April 25, 2006
April 14, 2006
Porters Park golf club
I'm a member of Porters Park golf club which has a beautiful championship course. It might not be as difficult as Augusta National Golf Club - the official site of the Masters Tournament, but it's still not easy. Especially as the club's hierarchy have decided to 'improve' it, i.e. to make the course even more tricky by creating new bunkers in the middle of the fairways and starting new tree plantation programmes in strategic places.
Christina Lye and Shirley Gudgeon, who are both in the Porters team competing in the Mail On Sunday competition (they've got through to the fourth round), have quickly adapted to the new course, continuing to win most of the club's competitions, so why can't I?
Tuesdays are Ladies Days at Porters, which enables one to lower or higher your handicap. Today's 'battle' was a Medal 4 Ball Better ball, which means a group of four players, consisting of two teams have to play their own ball.
It was freezing and pouring with rain, but on competition days you have to play whatever the weather, even if the conditions are Arctic.
My group started out in the early afternoon, but it took us so long to get round the long course - almost five hours, that when we came in, the kitchen was closed.
Things weren't helped much either when my partner and I were disqualified on the first hole. We had both committed the cardinal sin of picking up our balls after we had both driven off into a copse of trees and bushes on the right. We had both forgotten it was a medal competition, which meant we had to play out each hole. I hadn't had much sleep the previous evening, but I don't know what my partner's excuse was.
If I hadn't had to mark the other ladies' cards, I would probably have walked off the course there and then, especially as one of the ladies still in the game, proceeded to trill all the way round, that playing in the rain was more enjoyable than sailing. I could have hit her with my driver. My bad mood wasn't improved either when a couple of fingers on my right hand becoming paralysed with frostbite.
It was on miserable days this, that I wondered why I had got involved with golf in the first place? Tennis was a doddle in comparison. But, after I had to have my hip replaced at an exceptionally young age, due to bouncing up and down relentlessly on tennis courts over a number of years, I listened to Sarah Muirhead-Allwood, my surgeon who advised me to take up golf again (I used to be a junior member at the club). It was on grim golfing days like today that I wondered why I had listened to her. But, in golf there's always another round.
Posted by frances on April 14, 2006
April 5, 2006
Snatching Time
I met Clive Ashenden, an enthusiastic, young producer/director/editor at a horror seminar, organised by ScriptWriter Magazine held at RADA last year. He then mentioned he was working on a short.
This evening, I went up to an editing suite in Soho to view 'Snatching Time', the comedy-horror short he's written, directed, edited and produced. Luckily, I really enjoyed it - his effort was funny, and full of suspense and unpredictable surprises. It was just as well I did like it, because he was sitting right next to me while it was being screened. It would be perfect for this year's Fright Fest.
Clive is showing 'Snatching Time' at Cannes and I think it's so original, I wouldn't be surprised if a producer didn't offer to finance the full-length feature he's currently working on.
Posted by frances on April 5, 2006
April 3, 2006
Player-Playwrights
Went with Stephen Lavers, a fellow writer to our weekly Writer's Group, Player-Playwrights. It was packed out. Standing room only. There are about one hundred and fifty hard-core regular members and it looked like they were all crammed together in the room upstairs at the Horse & Groom.
If a bomb had gone off, I suspect that the insular worlds of radio/TV and theatre would have adorned black armbands for a week. Why the big turn out? Marks & Gran, Presidents of the Player-Playwrights were going to put on their play, 'The Moon's A Balloon', adapted from David Niven's autobiography, but they haven't finished it yet, due to the daily update for their 'New Statesman' tour with Rick Mayall. They have resurrected it with its anti-hero, Alan B'stard as a defector to New Labour. A bit late to try and get a peerage?
Instead, they had a reading of their new radio play, 'My Blue Heaven', which was being read by some of the group's professional actors. Radio 4 commissioned them to write it, and they were asked for a series but are unsure whether they want to do that.
I attended Marks & Gran's sit-com seminar, organised by ScriptWriter Magazine at RADA last year and they advised all their students to join Player-Playwrights. It took me a year before I decided to join. And, that was only because I met actor Daniel Dresner who is on the board and who also advised me to go.
Marks & Gran find readings of their new work at Player-Playwrights helpful and invaluable, and yes, I have to agree. There's nothing quite like hearing a bunch of actors read out aloud your work-in-progress 'opus', and then have to sit on a raised platform in front of your peers afterwards; squirming, while everyone in the Group dishes out their constructive criticism.
After Marks & Gran's reading, I asked the person sitting next to me on the sofa what they thought of their new radio play. 'It's professionally done, but so what?' he said. 'Why don't you tell them that?' I suggested. 'Nah, I want to make friends and influence people,' he replied. Obviously, a lot of the other writers had the same idea as the criticism was unusually rather muted and restrained, and dare I say it in a couple of cases, bordering on the sycophantic?
Posted by frances on April 3, 2006
Archives
2008
2007
January / February / March / April / May / June / July / August / September / October / November
2006
April / May / June / July / August / September / October
© Frances Lynn 2006
