I’m still getting to grips with what sort of content I’m going to produce on this platform, so operating on a trial and error basis, here is a insight into the things I particularly enjoyed in July.
London Grammar – The Truth is a Beautiful Thing
Check it out here.
I watched them perform songs from their new album at Glastonbury, at the John Peel stage, where my boyfriend also witnessed a man tie a cream knitted jumper around his front and piss into a bottle before emptying it on the grass, filling it up again and emptying it.
Hell to the Liars is pretty awesome. Go support.
HydraFacial
My skin has been flaunting its dark side recently, getting worse and worse and trapping me into a vicious cleansing/exfoliating routine which went nowhere but to encourage my face to grease up and sigh. Even though I’ve been looking into microdermabrasion for years to regulate my T-Zone, I finally mustered up the courage to go to a Sk:n clinic for a consultation. Though the entire affair was harshly dampened by a terrible stint of multi-storey car park panic, I got there and was advised a HydraFacial was the way to go. This was disappointing because it sets you back £150 per treatment, over the £65 for the microdermabrasion, but it promised to deliver instant results that improve the more often you have this treatment.
A week later, I was hooking my nose ring out of my left nostril and awkwardly lying on the bed, hands on my stomach, trying to muffle the unstoppable 12:49pm grumble. The actual process was akin to getting a tattoo; it hurt. It hurt a lot more than I had thought (I had anticipated a relaxing facial massage with cucumber eyeballs). The practitioner scrapes this tool across your face with vigour. She changes the head, does something else, rubs a hyaluronic acid into your pores and after about fifty minutes of scratching and scraping, you’re done. She didn’t show me my face in the mirror,in fact there was no mirror in sight which I found odd – I presume she was hungry too so she sort of dusted me out of the clinic after having me cough up the dollar.
Though I complain now and still find it weird I wasn’t able to check out my pinkened, clean skin in a mirror, it was worth it. I’ll be going again, and as regularly as possible to disencumber my pores and re-experience the jets boring into my epidermis.
Flesh and Bone
I don’t watch TV, really. I say that a lot and it’s the truth. There are a few programmes I enjoy tremendously (Modern Family, Fresh Meat, anything Attenborough), but in those fleeting moments between daylight and being asleep, it’s nice to have something else to sit down to. Infamously fussy, I had read Netflix and Sky dry so I clicked on Flesh and Bone on the Amazon app on our TV. I saw a ballerina, and was hoping for a series like Black Swan. That’s kind of what I got. We’re only four episodes deep, but I am obsessed. It’s a dark, grotty fiction following the life of a young ballerina, haunted by a troubled past. It’s daring, grimy, drug-fuelled, slightly harrowing and it has me and my boyfriend cringing and hiding behind our hands in shock. I recommend.
Given that this post is belated already in the draft, I’ll leave it here for this month’s gems.
Jasmine-Ianthe
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