Barcelona: GAH! I'm shopping in my mind...

Arrived in Barca late last night and received a wonderful welcome from my hosts Ron and Tadaaki. The apartment is amazing and I'll post some photos in the next few days - yes, I have wifi!

Discovered this morning my apartment is located right above 24 Kilates. And they happen to have a pair of sneaks I mentioned in a post earlier this month about Liberty in London. Yes that's right - 24 Kilates have the very limited edition orange Liberty Blazers. Yes I am dying right now.
And then I found Limited Editions around the corner. Sneaks range was a bit blah, but they have the very limited edition Alife wayfarers. Gah! Oh how I need the purple ones. But oh how my bank account balance aches...I'm not sure I can leave Barca without these items...

Ibiza: 5 days in 1 post

Saturday:
Flew from Barcelona to Ibiza.
Arrived in Ibiza about 11pm on Saturday night. Caught a cab straight to the villa where Ki Ki, Glenn, Erin and Sarah had arrived earlier in that day. The villa was deluxe. Didnt go out, weekends in Ibiza are dead. Got tipsy. Laughed a lot. Slept.

Sunday:
Got up and we all headed to Ibizatown for lunch. Got a bit lost. Found a pipi can (ie dog toilet). Found our way again. Looked at bad souvenirs. Found some tourist bars selling 'disco tickets'. Stopped to eat lunch at a British bar along the way. Baked potato, sangria and apple crumble. It started to pour rain. Laughed a lot more. Rain stopped. Headed to Ibizatown. Stopped for Magners travellers. Met 2 germans who gave us a good deal on party tickets. Wandered along the beach. Found a Chi Chi toy. Eventually ate paella for dinner at Marcos as the sun set. Made the long trek back to the villa.

Monday:
Our first party day - drinks at a private party followed by Cocoon @ Amnesia. Weather is shite. Rain, sun, rain, sun. Spent the day mulling over what to wear and watching the others laze by the pool despite the rain. Started drinking about 11.30am. But the time we were ready to go to the party, we were all boozy. Drank a zillion vodka oranges at the private party. Laughed constantly. Glenn will forever on be known as Sexy Grimace. Got cute photo keyring souvenirs. The bus arrived to take us to Amnesia. Bus was full of loose units. Club was nuts. So big, so tacky, but so awesome. Ritchie Hawtin was playing in the main room. Banging techno for everyone! Funktion One system was rocking. Dancers came out and blew my mind. Midgets, models, abs and flashinf knickers. The place was packed. Went into the 2nd room and took in the spectacle that is Amnesia. There was a lot of spew around the place. Discovered the amazing oxygen jets that blast the whole room. Before we knew it, it was 6am and we caught a broke-down coach back home. Bedtime.

Tuesday:
Woke up just in time for Jimmy to arrive. Chatted and laughed. We laugh a lot. Got ready to go to Carl Cox and Danny Tenaglia @ Space. Drank sangrias for a bit while the lines were too long. Got tickets and got straight in. Carl Cox owned the main room. Danced right up the front. Jimmy ate my scissors. Danced up front for Tenaglia. The dancers were crap. The crowd was loose. Too many poms in bad clothes. Bought a Space fan. Rocked out on the terrace. Piked early (4am).

Wednesday:
Got up late and went for tapas in Sant Jordi. Was in a grumpy mood. Tonight we hit Meganite @ Privilege - the world's biggest club. Kicked back for the day. Jimmy made us a yummy dinner of ribs and rabbit pasta. Caught cabs to privilege. Went in. Was a bit disappointed because half the venue was closed. But the dj booth over the pool is impressive. The tunes weren't bad. The crowd was the hang over of the last two nights. The dancers were fulgy and old. A guy was making love to a speaker. We danced and be'd silly. Piked early. Went to bed.

Thursday:
Chilled at the villa, and flew back to Barcelona last night.

You know what really sucks balls?

Getting a message from your bestie telling you how rad the villa in Ibiza is while you're sitting in Barcelona Airport on the cold marble floor getting piles on your ass waiting another 3 hours for your flight there.

Love you Ki Ki xxx

Ban the Tan

I'll be the first to admit I went through a stage a few years back of having a serious tan. Not a fake one, but not a real one - a solarium tan. I was addicted to golden skin. And I had myself convinced solarium tans were safer than real sun tans - a falicy of course. The fact I used solariums so much is now a constant monkey on my back, reminding me I'll probably end up with skin cancer and die.

Over the past couple of years, I've become an advocate of the moon tan, prefering to use spray tans for special occasions when my lily white skin just isn't going to cut it with that open back dress.

But even the spray tan has begun to scare me.

Firstly, I'm not sure coating my body from head to toe in some weird dye-like, semi-waterproof substance can be all that good for me. And secondly, I'm frightened I'm going to get a bad spray tan one day, and end up looking like Valentino:
So the thought of going to Ibiza has been scaring the shit out of me. I'm going to stand out for all the wrong reasons - primarily because I'll be glowing like Casper the Ghost.
But just because I'm short and as white as Casper doesn't mean I will allow myself to be intimated by all the tall, fake tanned chicks in Ibiza. Even though they think they look like this:
We all know that after the Jager shots have all been drunk and the harsh reality of daylight sets in, they really look like this:
I can't decide which one I like best - bitch who smokes cigarette between her ta-tas on the right; boggle-eye horseface Titsiana Booberini on the left; or Malcolm in the middle. They all have their own je ne sais quoi - don't you think? I should be so lucky to encounter these kind of folk in Ibizatown later tonight. It'll be just like going to a Middle Earth music festival* where Oompa Loompas are invited too.
This post makes me feel physically ill. After looking at all these photos, I've pretty much convinced myself I'm never getting any kind of tan again. Given, a healthy glow is becoming and a tan is slimming, but the risks are high. A fraction too much and you'll wake up dead. Or worse - you end up resembling George Hamilton.
*Thanks for the joke Flynn hehehe

toughlovenyc drops props for C.O.P.

C.O.P. just got a serious helping of tough love. Check it.

Paris: Other stuff I did yesterday...

I got freaky at the David Lynch exhibition at Galleries Lafayette.I played Space Invader.
I schlepped to Lazy Dog Gallerie for Triple Trouble II (Cream, 2SHY & So-ME).
I drank tea at Mariage Freres (it's kind of a big deal if you're into tea!).
And I got spiritual at Holy Destruction (Agnes B Gallerie du Jour). It's a low brow group show. And yes, that Space Invader is made entirely of Rubik's Cubes.

Paris: Auguste

Went to the store Auguste yesterday. Really cool and worth checking out if you're in Paris. It's just near Bastille Metro, which is also the right stop to check out Lazy Dog Gallery (also very cool - aside from the 400EUR price tag on the Miss Van prints).
At Auguste, I met Pierre, who used to be the editor of Acclaim Magazine (he said to say hi to you CC Mayoress!). We had a little chat, I bought my Rabbit Eye canvas and Poyz and Pirls screenprint, and Pierre gave me and Auguste CD and invited me to a big party at the store next week. Sucks I won't be in Paris... I'll be in Ibiza instead!

Shoot your stylist

Shakira and Pink wore the same frock to the VMAs. No one likes to turn up at a red carpet event wearing the same dress as someone else - especially if they're market is the same demographic. And frankly, they both look shit. Shoot your stylist.
And frankly, they both look shit!

Paris: I'm pretty sure there's no one cooler than Terry Lynn

I saw Jamaican dancehall queen Terry Lynn sing live tonight before Buraka Som Sistema. She has the voice of an angel who sings from the ghetto (serious - she sings along about coming from the slums). And she was wearing a jumpsuit. Hawt.

http://www.myspace.com/terrylynnkingstonlogic

Paris: Most awesomest French label

I got this Poyz and Pirlz (poison pearls) limited edition screen print today too. Si Si! La familie! (it's French slang that would be similar to us saying 'you're my bro!' or something) So frigging awesome. I loves the Cosby Show.

http://store.poyzandpirlz.com/

They make tees like this: