So yeah, hiya! I’m back, maybe not forever but at least for now. I know I’ve been gone for a really fucking long time but I figure starting posting again now can’t be too bad of an idea and I’ve got a new thing to review…
More later, darlings
7:02 pm • 2 November 2012 • 1 note
Heli reviews…Audrey Hepburn and how she’s slowly but surely ruining and beautifying my life.
I suppose this is another thing you should know about me, if you didn’t already and you’re still reading through my posts for some reason, I really fucking love films. I know, I know, so do most people, but I’m sorry, I love them more than most people. The reason for this is fairly simple, I don’t sleep very much (due to a combination of too much caffeine during the day and other shit which I’d much rather not talk about now or ever really) and if I’m not sleeping, I’m usually watching a film.
I have a deep rooted love for all things old-school, be it music or literature or photography, but especially cinema. There is something so magical about a beautiful, black and white heroine exhaling heavily (but still so elegantly!) on a cigarette and saying a classic line with flawless diction and indifference, all set over a wonderful sweeping score. Sigh, I love it.
Anyway, Audrey Hepburn has always been a favourite of mine just because Breakfast at Tiffany’s was one of the first films I saw and truly fell in love with when I was younger, and ever since I’ve tried to replicate her classic look, be it by wearing a LOT of black, or thick flicks of eyeliner or trying to arch a flawlessly sculpted eyebrow in the same way that she perfected so well..oh well, one day darlings, one day I’ll be just like her. Even if, as one of my friends has said to me before, “You’ll never be like Audrey Hepburn, not with a mouth on you like that.”
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Hepburn film which I didn’t adore. Roman Holiday (So fucking frustrating! WHY CAN’T THEY JUST BE TOGETHER), Sabrina (how have they ONLY JUST NOTICED that she’s beautiful? Were they blind for the first 10 years of their lives?), My Fair Lady (she’s not singing? What do you mean she’s not fucking singing? No fuck you, I don’t believe you!), the list truly is endless.
If you’ve never seen a Hepburn film (and that disgusts me), I suppose the most obvious choice to make your way in is Breakfast at Tiffany’s, because it’s a wonderful film and a classic for any girl (or boy, if you wish), growing up, ever. If you’ve already seen that but want to watch more of her work, any of the films I’ve mentioned in this post are worth seeing, trust me.
Anyway, I should probably be tying this up because I’m supposed to be doing my Latin revision, but here’s a final thought for you. This woman, this amazing, wonderful woman inspires me purely because as well as being a classic style icon and a great actress, she was a good person too. And it’s so difficult nowadays to meet or even know of people who are truly, truly good. She was modest, but so talented, beautiful but not vain, famous without letting it go to her head.
I’ll leave you with one of my favourite Hepburn quotes, which incidentally I like to think of whenever I’m facing something difficult,
“Nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘I’m possible!’”
I’ll tell ya, darlings, they truly don’t make ‘em like that anymore.
Love always, Heli xo
12:44 pm • 14 June 2012 • 15 notes
Heli reviews…her clothing choices and the fact that she is in fact, a filthy hippie.
Just to clarify though, I do wash. Like, I shower regularly. And I wash my hair, and you know, clean my body. I’m not actually filthy, I don’t think anyway. Possibly just my mouth (don’t make that into an innuendo, don’t make that into an innuendo, sweet baby jesus don’t make that into an innuendo.)
Yeah, so I’m pretty certain this will come off as either very vain or pretentious as fuck, but I’ve always liked to think that the way I dress is pretty individual. No, I don’t only shop at tiny boutiques or one-of-a-kind stalls, and I don’t have enough money to shop all the time at vintage stores, much as I would dearly love to, but I’ve never had a problem with mixing up brands and putting random shit together and essentially just embracing everything I love about fashion in one fabulously put together outfit.
My style recently though has gone through a fairly gradual but at the same time fairly dramatic change. I own too much jewellery, and not nice, silver and gold jewellery from Tiffany’s (“The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s, then - then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name!”) but just a lot of shit that I’ve picked up from various places. Bangles from second-hand shops in London, beads I’ve stolen off my mum, a watch from a stall by the seaside, friendship bracelets, you name it, I’ve got it. I wear too many feathered items, in particular right now earrings…dear god the earrings I have. I caught my mum trying to throw some of those away earlier, the pure fucking rage in my heart surprised both of us, I think. Chiffon…especially on skirts, and especially on maxi skirts, I own a shit load of that. Flowery headbands, flowery shirts, flowery skirts, flowery shoes…everything must be printed with flowers essentially.
And my hair…the hair is becoming a chaotic mix of split ends and old purple hair dye and blonde streaks and good intentions. It needs a good cut, but I don’t have the heart or the time to ruin the beautiful mess. Anyway, after exams I’m adding some rainbow highlights so that’s something to look forward to, then at the end of the summer I’ll cut it. Well, maybe, if I can bring myself to, which I probably won’t be able to.
In conclusion, I’m turning into a hippie. And surprisingly, I have no fucking problems with that whatsoever. Peace and love, babe, peace and fucking love.
5:54 pm • 9 June 2012 • 2 notes
Heli reviews…Grouplove because she can’t get ‘Tongue Tied’ out of her head.
Ok, I’ll admit it, the only reason I know Grouplove is because I’m one of those people who will always click on the ‘Related artists’ section of a band’s Spotify page, because hello, if I’m in the mood to listen to The Strokes but I’ve already listened to all their albums three times today and played them backwards, I really fucking love being able to be like ‘Hmm…related artists…well hello there Arctic Monkeys, I must say Mr Turner, you’re looking extraordinarily dapper today, now why don’t you take your clothes off and climb right into my bed, hmm?’
Anyway, after that unfortunate sidenote, I’ll actually talk about what I wanted to talk about. Which was, in fact, Grouplove. And how I got there from clicking on random links of related artists on Spotify. Right, so I really like Modest Mouse. Also, Arcade Fire. And as Spotify rightly describes them, Grouplove fit right in between those two (fantastic) bands. However, what really got me all the way to Gl was listening to Sleigh Bells (What do you MEAN you don’t fucking listen to Sleigh Bells? Sort that out! Go! Now!) and I clicked on Joy Formidable (Who I saw at Leeds last year and they were absolutely smashing, just sayin’, just sayin’) and BAM hello Grouplove, how art thou?
If you’re a Glee fan (I’d judge you, but I’m too busy being one of you), you’ll recognise the hopelessly catchy ‘Tongue Tied’ from the penultimate episode of Season 3. No, they didn’t sing it, but they did record it and it played in the background. Look that shit up, Naya and Lea are sounding fanfuckingtastic, as always.
(This would be the music video for Tongue Tied, which makes no sense but that doesn’t matter because it’s a fucking great song and it really really makes me want to stand up and dance around the kitchen and shake my hair around and all that embarrassing stuff which I pretend I don’t do when I’m around normal people.)
Anyway yes, if you’re a fan of the sort of brilliant hybrid between indie-squeaky vocals-is that a man or a woman singing who cares-electro-pop kind of music, you’ll love Grouplove, because they’re a really fucking fun band who don’t take themselves too seriously and while they’re having a great time, they’re making some brilliant music.
I (as a music connoisseur and all round douchebag) personally recommend, ‘Tongue Tied’ (If you haven’t listened to it by now and you’re still reading this you’re just being fucking LAZY), ‘Colours’ (So many repeated words! Act like I don’t care! What is this song about! Who the fuck knows!), ‘Naked Kids’ (The intro itself deserves medals for being amazing, deal with it), ‘Close Your Eyes And Count To Ten’ (The intro of which sounds like a cross between Nirvana, early Wings and late Gainsbourg, who the fuck doesn’t love that?) and you know what, just listen to all of their songs, if you regret it then you’re either a) tasteless or b) stupid, and you know what? I do not want you on my blog.
Au revoir, chickies
5:22 pm • 9 June 2012 • 5 notes
Heli reviews…eating disorders and how they have the tendency to (pun not intended) eat away at you.
I don’t know who still reads this and honestly I don’t really care, this is more for my peace of mind than anything else, a way to straighten out in my head what the hell is going on in my life.
Eating disorders are a difficult topic for most people to speak up about, mainly because especially if you, like me, live in the private school bubble of South London, you’ll always know someone, be it a relative, or a friend, or a friend of a friend, who is suffering from one, that’s just how it is. Blame it on parents, school pressure, messages sent out by the media, whatever the fuck you want to, but the bottom line is they are SO much more common than you might think.
A common misconception people have about EDs are that people start them for attention. Naturally, I can’t speak for everyone who’s ever suffered, but the reason I started this whole road of absolutely horrible, self-destroying bullshit was because I wanted to blend in. I wanted my mum to get off my back about losing weight, I wanted people not to judge me for being a little bit heavier than maybe I should have been, and more than anything, I wanted to be what I thought society’s idea of ‘normal’ was.
See, I’ve always had this whole thing about not blending in, I’ve waned to be different, memorable, famous even…but that got me absolutely fucking nowhere. People just saw me as bitchy, as self-centred, as too loud, as obnoxious. Maybe I was, I don’t know. And maybe if I’d been a stronger person I would’ve been able to shrug that off and say, in a rather Taylor Swift-esque way (but of course with added expletives), “You know what, fuck ‘em. Some day, I’ll be living in a big old city…” but the bottom line is, I wasn’t. I was fine for a while, I was happy, and then something happened. Tiny, insignificant, but it mattered to me. And suddenly, nothing I did was good enough. An A in a Latin paper just felt like not quite an A*, perfecting a piece of violin music felt like not learning the rest of them yet, losing a pound felt like never, ever fucking enough.
And that’s how it starts to eat away at you.
Me, personally, I’m bulimic. Bulimia with a touch of anorexia I suppose, if you really want to zoom in on the details, but that’s not why I’m writing this, I’m not looking for sympathy, I’m not trying to get people to care. I’m just trying to understand myself why this is happening and how I can stop it before it destroys everything and everyone I love.
Bulimia is interesting, actually, because sufferers can stay within a healthy weight range while still being really ill. But that’s what’s so terrible about it too, especially if you’re not a purger (purging being when you eat a lot of food, healthy or unhealthy, not because you’re hungry but because you just want to throw it back up again), that not being ‘thin enough’ causes you to go to even more extreme measures. Starving yourself, skipping meals, laxatives, throwing up after everything and anything you eat, they all come into the equation, and that’s what kills you in the end. Not eating isn’t neccessarily the cause of death. Organ failure, infection, the list of horrible side effects which can occur when you suffer from an ED is endless.
“But if you know this,” I can hear the cynics amongst you saying, “why don’t you just stop?”
Trust me, that’s crossed my mind too many times to count. But I can’t stop anymore. Before I used to be able to push these feelings away, tell myself to lose weight healthily, or just be happy with who I was, how I looked already. That doesn’t happen anymore. Now all I see when I look in the mirror is two things-
1) On a bad day, a girl with weight in all the wrong places, with fat thighs and chubby cheeks, stringy hair and too big eyes. A girl who wants nothing more than to be someone else entirely.
2) On better days, someone who is finally starting to blend in, to fit in with the pretty, skinny, normal, society-accepted crod.
And it’s awful, it really fucking is. These feelings which I can’t push away anymore, they’re starting to control me. I can’t forget what I used to be, the constant happiness I used to feel, but it’s slipping away from me. Sure, I’m not miserable all the time, not at all. I have some really honest to god fantastic friends, both in school and out, and I genuinely thank god for them every day, because without them I have no idea where I’d be right now. But that’s another terrible thing about an ED. They make you selfish. You don’t care about anything, all you want is thin. You have all these amazing people who care about you, and want to help, and you just take them for granted, you lump them with your problems and forget to say thank you. And I personally am trying to rectify that now because I treasure my friends more than I can possibly say, and the way my life is going on right now, I don’t know whether I’ll be keeping them for much longer if I don’t change the terrible way I’ve been treating them.
Anyway, I should probably cease this incessant babbling now, because I’m not even sure whether anyone is still reading this, but I hope that whoever is, that you realise that you’re wonderful. I know that sounds stupid and naive, and the cynics once again are moaning about making assumptions or trying to win favour, but you truly truly are. Everyone is special, no matter people treat you, or how you treat yourself. Just because you don’t believe it, that doesn’t mean that someone out there doesn’t, fucking trust me.
I don’t love myself, some days I struggle to even feel anything anymore, but I know that I should. And I’m trying, fuck knows I am, and so should you.
You’re beautiful, every single fucking one of you.
Love, as always,
4:32 pm • 8 June 2012 • 4 notes
Heli reviews…American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis, a book which genuinely made me wonder whether finding it so brilliant made me a serial killer.
Right, first things first. I haven’t seen the film. I know I should, and I’m planning on doing it, especially as it involves two of my favourite things-
1) Christian Bale
2) Christian Bale SHIRTLESS
as well as a fuck load of dark, dark humour and just pure excellence in every pore of its film-tastic existence. I am going to watch it, but being one of those bastards who insists on reading the book before they watch the film (see: Clockwork Orange, Lolita etc etc), I had to read the book first, and read it I certainly did.
The novel’s anti-hero is the fabulously twisted Patrick Bateman (played by Christian Bale in the film, a man so chiselled it should probably be a crime. Let’s praise the fucking heavens that it isn’t), a normal man living his life in 1970s American banker and stock broker’s paradise. Seems boring right? Oh yeah, he’s a serial killer.
And he does not kill people by halves. Oh no no no, darlings, there are no half-hearted gun shots to the head, bang, done, dead, or swift throat-slittings a la Sweeney Todd. Fuck no, this is full on torture involving all kinds of horrendously gruesome instruments. Acid? check. Coat hangers? Unfortunately check. Axe? Hilariously check.
I won’t lie, it was a hard book to get the hang of at first, especially as for the first few chapters I spent with an internal monologue of ‘MATE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE MURDERS? WHAT’S THIS SHIT ABOUT BANKING AND CLUBS? I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!’, however no worries, that all changes. In fact, by the end I felt vaguely nauseous. Scratch that, extremely nauseous.
It’s wonderful though, don’t get me wrong. If you like reading (like me, and if you don’t, you should leave, preferably ASAP) and like books which will make you think, read it. Go to your nearest Waterstones (incidentally, the man who works at my nearest one is absolutely wonderful at recommending books- I aspire to be him on life) and buy it. If you get strange looks from the cashier, fuck ‘em, I spent 10 minutes during a sixth form interview trying to convince the English teacher I was talking to that I wasn’t a psychopath after naming Clockwork Orange as one of my favourite books (read it, for the love of god, read that shit).
If you must, watch the film first, but seriously, I disapprove, and will consider writing a very strongly-worded email to you (because I really have that much fucking spare time on my hands) (actually I don’t, I just truly am a mistress of procrastination.)
I’ll leave you with one of the most fabulously brilliant and wonderful quotes from the film as a little taster for the excellence ahead if you choose to partake in this journey-
“There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone; in fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.”
love always, Heli xo
5:16 pm • 9 May 2012 • 4 notes
Heli reviews…that David Guetta album that no one really bought but everyone inexplicably knows every song off.
Right, so this isn’t my normal kind of thing. At all. But there was a mix up last time my darling father took a trip to our nearest HMV to do his monthly CD shop. He meant to buy Gotye, bought David Guetta instead. Yeah, I don’t understand how it happened either. Whatever, after a few listens I realised a few things-
1) I can sing the words to every single song. Might just be from the aerobics classes at school twice a week, might be the fact that they seem to follow you everywhere you go, to every fucking shop on every fucking high street in the world. Whatever, irrelephant.
2) So catchy. Sweet baby jesus, it’s like instead of the writers of these songs being like ‘hey, we need a hook for this song’ they were like ‘HOW ABOUT WE USE EVERY HOOK IN THE WORLD AND THEN ADD A SPRINKLE OF SWEET BACK BEATS AND THEN GET A UNICORN TO SHIT ON IT’. Seriously, how do they get stuck in your head so easily? Who the fuck even knows? Well, not me clearly.
Anyway, I’ll only highlight a couple of the tracks because some of them I genuinely cannot listen to right now because they hurt my ears. Also, I’m a lazy bastard. Whatever.
‘Without You’, aka Usher’s no.1 hit of the last year, incidentally also song which was covered by my number one gal, Lea Michele on Glee a couple of weeks ago. (Yeah, I’m a gleek, deal with it, fuckers) It’s vaguely meaningful, it’s got vaguely poetic words and it has an AMAZING hook. Seriously, how the writers managed to make the word ‘Without’ spread out over that many syllables (It’s called a melisma, for anyone who’s interested. No one? Fair enough…) and on such a fabulously catchy tune, but yeah. I am in awe. Also, gotta love Usher’s sweet runs on every other note, werk it bro, werk it.
‘Titanium’- overplayed or just brilliant? Fuck it, I’m going for brilliant, I LOVE that song. One of my best friends (Hi Dido, what’s up girl?) loves it even more than me, so whenever I think of it in my head I like to dedicate it to her. Anyway, it’s inspirational, you can run to it and it kind of makes me want to get up and fight some battles, or debate for gay rights or something. Literally, when it plays I get a strong urge to climb a mountain and all that shit. Fabulous.
Jessie J sings wonderfully on the album, as does the truly excellent Nicki Minaj, but I can’t say I adore the songs too ardently. What the fuck ever, it’s a great album, and if you’re the kind of person like me (or apparently, my father) needs some pumpin’ tunes to get you in the mood to actually get your arse out of bed and go on a run or something equally horrendous, this CD is definitely for you.
Do it, you won’t regret it.
Well, you might, but that ain’t my fault. Peace out!
4:58 pm • 9 May 2012
“We are the girls with anxiety disorders, filled appointment books, five-year plans. We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving… We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac, and multivitamins… We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves, and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-aggressive as our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers… We are the daughters of the feminists who said, “You can be anything,” and we heard, “You have to be everything.”
— Courtney Martin (via musclesbetter)
(Source: sassysluteverforever, via musclesbetter-deactivated201205)
11:18 am • 11 April 2012 • 14,417 notes
Heli reviews…Sweeney Todd
I’ll just come straight out and admit it, I can’t really hide it from you guys anymore.
Hi, I’m Heli, and I’m a musical theatre addict. I can’t help it, ever since I was little I’ve been obsessed with it. When I was six, I learnt all of the choreography to Grease and would watch it over and over again, singing my little heart out. (My poor, poor parents.) Thankfully, I’ve moved on from that point (…) and now I can just appreciate musicals from afar, like any good fan of anything does.
What I can’t control, however, is my urge to go and see productions of musicals in the West End. It’s my favourite place in the world to be, and no matter the cost, I love going to the theatre. (Which explains why I’ve seen…four musicals this year so far. Huh.)
Last night I went (with my wonderfully excellent parents) to see Sweeney Todd, with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton. I went in with high hopes, considering that the critics loved it, my uncle loved it, everyone who I know who has seen it loved it, so yeah, I was pretty excited.
And I will tell you, dear readers, it did not disappoint. The usually cheerful and twinkling Michael Ball skulked around the stage, growling at beggars and singing about slitting throats with a mad glint in his eye, and his voice, oh his voice, was superb. Everything about him screamed Todd, like he was literally channeling the spirit of an insane, blood-thirsty barber. Fabulous.
Imelda Staunton was a breath of fresh, dark humour in the overall grim musical, her tiny stature and raw, brilliant vocals making her a true Mrs Lovett in every sense of the character. She was hilarious, from her first appearance in ‘Worst Pies In London’ to her rendition of ‘By The Sea’ right until the end. (Well, not right until the end, the end was possibly too dark for that, but you get the gist.)
The rest of the cast was superb too though, each and every actor or actress putting 200 percent in, and it showed. The set was fantastic, the sound was great, the orchestra were stupendous.
As you can see, I loved it, and if you have any sense of what is good and right in the world, you’ll love it too. It’s not too expensive, I checked, the seats at the back for lower prices still have great views and if you want to splurge a bit more, it will be worth your while.
If you live in London, get your tickets booked now. If you don’t, like that matters, I had a friend who flew over to America to see American Idiot when Billie Joe Armstrong was in it, in our world of low-cost flights and transport everywhere, why the fuck shouldn’t you go to another continent to see a brilliant musical?
You won’t regret it.
9:32 am • 7 April 2012 • 4 notes