Sustained Criticism

My friends are somewhere out there in the sun and the new leaves, partying. I am inside, reading law and drinking wine. And this will be my life until the 8th of June. After that I work through the summer, but that can't be too terrible. The most exciting thing I've done all day is make pizza, or, perhaps, talk to Marion who is more stressed than I am about the exam.

But I did find the Celine shoes of my dreams on sale. I saw them, held them and walked out of the shop. Ten metres down the road I had to run back and buy them. They have ankle straps, and there was only one pair left in 38.5, I couldn't leave them there. What if someone else had bought them before I could?

I just had a shoe-gasm. I kid you not. United Nude, an absolute fetish of mine, is selling their Cosmo sandals. They were pictured on a model a year or so ago, and I've been drooling ever since. I need them. And now they're available, and since I bought a heap of clothes earlier today, I can't afford to buy them this month. The agony! If they're gone when I get money I don't know what I'll do. I might just have to buy them anyway. Fuck the economy. They are the most perfect sandals, my heart breaks at the thought of not owning them.

Oh, fuck. I've seen the previews of Guerlain's summer collection. It is stunning. That is all.

And I think I need the Patrizia Pepe pumps. Fuck.

I got MAC's Lavender Whip (you know you've been obsessing over references too long when you instinctively stop and ask "should I italicise Lavender Whip?") lipstick today images here. The collection grows with my obsession, and with the new vanity I have somewhere to store it all.

The Introduction to Philosopy/Beauvoir essay is a blank page, going nowhere. The bibliography is blank as well, which might very well come to bite me in the ass when it's graded. I need to write, and go find some bullshit books to skim through. The problem is that I would much rather write about feminism in general, not just Beauvoir. And what source material I have is so scarce.

Being near-sighted might just be ok, after all: I found a beautiful pair of Chanel frames. The arms have embedded pearls! I just have to work up the courage to check it. Apropos, I was very sensible and bought a pair of Hunter wellies, rather than go amok in the new candy-coloured spring/summer shoes Shoe Lounge had on display. But I think I might need a new pair of summery flats. Right? And perhaps the gorgeous, blue suede Patrizia Pepe pumps.

It might as well be official: I'm having a posthumous affair with Bolano's 2666. The book is in five sections, each about a new set of characters. I've just finished the first, aptly titled "The Part about the Critics". Which is about four haughty, arrogant European intellectuals' search for the author Archimboldi their careers and, incidentally, lives spiral around. The opening description of them is scathing, but grows more subtle. I haven't paid particular attention, but unless I'm very much mistaken it is a sublime example of free indirect style. Accordingly, there is a bit of telling, rather than showing. Which I find refreshing: actions are short, clipped. We get thoughts, descriptions, tangents and digressions. I had thought that his digressions would annoy me: they ended up among my favourite parts. They don't find Archimboldi and in the end it doesn't matter. For he is everywhere, Pelletier and Espinoza conclude.

His descriptions of literature conferences and studies are spot-on and very funny. The artist that is remembered for his one controversial work, where the focal point is his severed hand. There is so much we don't know. Some are hints to other parts of the work, I'm sure. The rest we're not supposed to know anything about.

But I do understand what a reviewer (on Amazon, I suspect) meant when he wrote that it is a novel for academics, and other writers, often commenting on itself and on the creative writing process. Unless you like high-brow literature this is most likely not for you.

This is an insightful review, interesting to read separately.


"I am a part of the part that at first was all, part of the darkness that gave birth to light, that supercilious light which now disputes with Mother Night her ancient rank and space, and can not succeed; no matter how it struggles, it sticks to matter and can't get free." Isn't it lovely? From Goethe's Faust, as far as I can tell (/as far as google tells me). I read it on Goodbooksinc


Kristine: the YSL wireframe shoes. If no one makes knock-offs I don't know what I'll do. I must have these shoes. And I just saw Nicholas Kirkwood's S/S09 collection: pearl-platform shoes. Pearls!

Oh, to hell with serious blogging, and on with the shoes!

Have you seen the new YSL adds? With the superb wireframe shoes? I love them. Let me not count the ways. I can also think of endless uses for them. If you haven't seen them, here they are on the runway. Spring 2009 is turning into a very good shoe season. They would look out of this world with a pair of jeans, my new teal bag and a pair of big sunglasses. And well-pedicured feet. I like these Stella McCartney's as well. I'm not usually a huge fan of box heels, but these are fun. I want more shoes, and this ridiculous non-winter winter to begone.

I don't know what's gotten into me, I'm posting like a mad. Perhaps I'm making up for the up-coming London induced absence. I've been drooling all over flat, knee-high leather boots the past two years. But I've been sensible, and not bought any until now. As a matter of fact, I haven't bought any shoes – except for the blue, bejeweled sandals from Karen Millen – for months and months. I've worked up a shoe credit. We stopped by to see if they had anything fun, and I saw the back of one of the most stunning dresses yet. Low-cut (back cleavage is almost as wonderful as collarbone cleavage) in the back, with criss-crossing straps. Please, deity, let it be on sale in London.

The boots are of the most perfect, buttery, supple brown leather (the clerk assured us it was Italian, glove-quality). The tops fold down, with a split back over a strap and a band of elastic that run the length of the shaft, making for a snug fit. They're slightly pointed, not quite an almond toe, and make my feet look graceful. Non-pointed flats usually make my feet look so big and unseemly, these do not. I love, love, love them.

We promised we'd let the Breeder, Wenche atKennel elfrema show Anton when we bought him. And we owe it to her: she named him Elfrema's Jewel, and has been incredible for over ten years. We agreed to take him to a show in early February, I think. I'm terrified. And I have to teach him to stand correctly.

Did I mention I tried to read Naipaul's Miguel Street? I gave up. It's a book of semi-connected short stories, written early on in his career. They all start the same way, and have this far been largely uninteresting. I fished Woolf's "A Room of One's Own" out of my shelves, instead. It's brilliant.

I'm just now seeing the shoes from Dior/Galliano's fall/winter line, and I am in undying lust with these They were inspired by fabergé eggs. The rest of the collection is no less gorgeous.

And Posten's tracking servive tells me my twentyfour piece MAC brush set arrived at my local post office today. I can't wait to play with them. Hopefully, customs will not have had their dirty paws on them.

I've just realised that I am part of a great female plot. Meeting someone wearing the same top you are, you give each other the once over. It does, thankfully, not happen very often. If you find the other wears the top well, or in a way you hadn't thought of, you smile; "I like your style", or "I must wear it like that sometime".

With the exception of a much too high dosage of semantics, grammar and general lingvistics, University is fun. I have too much coffee, talk too much, read pittifully little. And I buy too many shoes. Breath-taking Oxfords, from Patrizia Pepe's autumn/winter line. And the pair of C'N'C sandals I coveted so this summer, at 70% off. Yum!

I love Disney, I really do. It must be the only movies where characters bursting into song does not seem ludicrous. I'm seeing Anastasia again, now. Gods, how completely adorable. Nothing else comes close.

Shopping is my kind of exercise. Burning calories in heels. Oh, yes. Particularly when it involves a new pair of heels. I got new sandals on Monday, these, from Neosens. I love them. Heels, a bit of a platform, straps and rough-looking seems. They're dressy enough for anything, and un-dressy enough to dress a dress down for daytime wear. (Not my picture, I couldn't be bothered to whip up something better.)

And I promised I would buy Katrine a book for her birthday, so I'll have to look through my shelves and scourge the bookshops for something she'll enjoy.