PMS August

Have you missed me? I've certainly missed me. Fear not, I've returned (sort of) to tell you most, if not all, of my perfect monthly sounds (PMS, get it?) of August. Last month I told you that PMS had temporarily moved home, but I'm now making it a permanent adjustment. Let's unpack the metaphorical boxes and have a cuppa whilst I tell you all my thoughts. August, how distant does August seem? To be perfectly honest it feels only weeks ago that the bells were ringing in for New Year and I was more than a little bit drunk, telling people that they haven't lived until they'd been to Glastonbury. I stand by that sentiment sober, no matter how pretentious it may sound. Register now for 2016! Or don't and give me a greater chance of getting tickets for myself.
That was a tangent and a half, wasn't it? What I meant by all of this was that the year has sped by, and we have put the sort-of-but-not-really-summery summer to bed once more, resigning ourselves to the cosy, cosy confines of September. But August wasn't a complete bust. Maybe weather-wise, but certainly not with music.

Carly Rae Jepsen / E.MO.TION

If you'd asked me a year ago how I felt about Carly Rae Jepsen, even a few months back, I wouldn't have responded too kindly. Her first and seemingly only song 'Call me Maybe' had been forced upon us and I didn't feel too fab about it. Now, I love a good pop princess as much as the next person, but it just wasn't my cuppa tea. It was too pop for me. (Someone who queued for days to see Lady Gaga.) Ask me now, however, and I can only praise the woman. She is due to release the pop album I always wanted and never knew I needed (and my word do I need it). The single 'Run Away With Me' is an absolute class follow up to that single - 'I Really Like You'. It's all the best of the cheesy 80s with modern raspy vocals and I love it. It's like 1989's fun little sister; beaut sounds without all of T-Swift's seriousness. If someone told me they listened to it and didn't want to gather all their gals and drink wine and dance then I'm not sure I could trust them. 

Halsey / Badlands

My love for this album was a complete accident. I first stumbled across Halsey when I was scrolling aimlessly through Tumbr, and rightly so as it appears she seems to rule the tumblr corner of the interwebs. Famed for her blue hair, obviously, she is the leader of the teen girl gang that resides on the internet. Intrigued by me not knowing anything about this, and worried that I was too old to be in the know about such artists, I keenly downloaded her album. Bordering annoying I wasn't too sure I'd made a good decision, maybe I was too old to enjoy it. It's the lyrics that pulled me in, in which the anger of the female youth is ever present, talking about sex and social pressures and the patriarchy. I only wish that there had been someone writing and singing similar messages when I was a hormonal teenager. However, it's a message that you're never too hold to hear. 

FKA TWIGS / M3LL155X

I will officially go on record to say that 'In Time' is Twig's catchiest song to date. I find myself singing or humming or whistling it constantly. Which makes it even more difficult to bare when I can't listen to the song as a single. I shouldn't moan, the visual mashup of songs that she released is glorious. Classic, all girl dance routines and a powerful pregnancy metaphor and girl power, the video is well worth a watch. All 16 and something minutes of the thing. Well done FKA Twigs. Well done. Please always release new music. (Also, her cover of Sia's 'Elastic heart' was phenomenal!)

Miley Cyrus / Miley Cyrus and her Dead Petz

I mean, technically, this album was a cheeky little September release, but let's just pretend for the sake of a consistent blog post that it's all August. It's also not a little release at all, with Cyrus releasing 23 songs, which is an insane amount of lyrics to pretend to remember. Surprise was definitely key with Miley dropping a Beyonce on us all during her VMA hosting gig. I, like so many of the Hannah Montana generation, hopped on the interwebs straight after the announcement to get a dose of that comfy pop I've come to expect from Cyrus. Instead, we were treated to something much more personal and in turn much more real sounding. The single 'Dooo it' was reminiscent of the Bangerz phase of Cyrus's career, but from 'Karen Don't Be Sad' on-wards, we start to hear the album I think she'd always wanted to make, and one which she would probably want to listen to after smoking something fun. This guitar-based, psychedelic sound is a far cry from the commercial pop she'd been hitting us with in the years previous. I'm torn, part of me wants the cheesy ballads and thumping pop beats to dance around to, but the new direction is also music I'd choose to listen to without labeling it as a 'guilty pleasure'. Here's hoping for her to move further and further in rock. 

So, that's my round up of my fave music released from August. What a month it was indeed. Pop music absolutely dominated the summer and I am 100% okay with that. If you happen to be curious about my absence, which I highly doubt but I plan to tell you about anyway, I am currently in the process of moving back to Southend, to renew my Essex gal status. I kid, of course, but I have moved and spent a fair amount of my time on trains. Luckily, I've had these fabulous albums to keep me company, ta very much gals! I hope the cheesiness continues and I hope you love it as much as I do, because I said so. 

Kanye, Juergen, Kim & Me

As a writer, I adore print. As an artist, I admire photography. As a reality tv lover, I'm addicted to Keeping up with the Kardashians. As a woman and eyebrow connoisseur, I bow down to Kim and as a sometimes, wine-enthused, rapper extraordinaire, I enjoy Yeezus too. All of these things meant that I could be found seventh in the queue outside Dover Street Market at 10:06am on a Saturday morning, when I could have so easily been in bed. Instead of the latter, I took my last £20, which could have been spent on food or bills or things essential to living, to pick up the questionably essential 'Kanye, Juergen and Kim,' a portfolio of photographs published via System Magazine. (Please don't tell my mother.)

For the first ten minutes, I waited in the wrong queue. I didn't even know there would be a queue, let alone a plural. The original plan had been to go over to west London early for breakfast in the area, then saunter down to the market at 11am and collect my magazine. A romantic Saturday in London, with myself.

As I wandered down Dover Street to scout the area for the nearest Pret, I noticed a small crowd had already formed. Dismissing the middle class white family waiting by the door as tourists, I placed my bets with the edgier, younger crowd that had started up on the opposite side of the shop. Soon after, a guy approached me (the only female in the queue) to ask what I was actually there for.

'The Kimye Book' I said with instant regret, remembering that combination names should be left on the internet. For a moment it seemed he agreed, looking at me with confusion. As it turns out I was in a queue for men's shoes, the so called 'Kimye Book Queue' started over behind the middle-class white family. (Shame on the guy for assuming that a woman couldn't buy men's shoes.) ((Shame on me for not knowing what the shoes were.)) (((Update, I have since googled said shoe and I'm glad I switched queues.)))

I tutted my way through the tedious one-in-one-out system the shop had going on, half expecting Kim  herself to be working the shop floor with the amount of security and precaution Dover Street Market were taking. (Guess the shoes are a pretty big deal after all.) Once down in the shop's basement, no Kim in sight, and pushed to the back of the line by the shoe-crazed youth, I managed to exchange that controversial last £20 and get my set of photos of the king and queen of controversy.
After I finally found a Pret and bought myself a salad ('with what money?' I hear you ask - good question!) filled with coriander that I would spend ten minutes picking out and an avocado that was lust-worthy, I positioned myself down in Green Park to have a flick through the magazine.

It's bizarre. This is definitely not a criticism by any stretch of the imagination. I had wondered why the photographer, Juergen Teller, had been listed central in the title when the subjects were seemingly so narcissistic. Inside, the answer was sprawled out across pages of Juergen hiking and climbing and awkwardly existing between shots of the all-powerful-power-couple. Kim's stares were haunting and her curves were to-die-for and Kanye succeeded in looking brooding as the pair frolicked about in piles of dirt and grass somewhere in France.

I would give and arm and a leg and some more of my non-existent money to have been there during the shoot. I think that's where the collection's magic lies, in what the heck happened to even get to the end result. Why is Juergen Teller crawling through he dirt in extreme short shorts to find a gold ring and why did Kanye style Kim in that skin colour body-suit and bra and get her to pose with a tractor and a hundred more whys. Thank you Juergen Teller. Maybe I'm hideously biased (because I truly believe that Kim can do no wrong) but this is genius. Thank you.

My back ached from the tree I was awkwardly leant against. It always looks so chic in the movies, sitting and reading under the shade of a tree when in reality you're just uncomfortable with dirt on your hands, bug bites on your back and pins and needles in your butt. I persevered, wanting to capture my cliche summer in London moment. Instragramming a picture from the magazine, to update the world that I had, in fact, made it out of bed, I received nothing but hate (in the form of vomming and sick emojis) -in true Kimye style. But I guess, that's what I love about them; love or hate, they force you to actually have an opinion.

They force you to comment on that stranger's Instagram with hate or devote unmentionable hours on that bloody Kim Hollywood Life game. They force you to start petitions to get Kanye out of Glastonbury or to actually kind of agree when he says he's the 'Greatest Living Rockstar'. Love them or hate them, they force you to talk about art. And that's a conversation we all need to get more involved with. (Because I said so.)

Unmissable

As the weekend of mud, glitter and warm cider draws closer to us, aside from checking the weather forecast online everyday and praying to the festival gods for anything but more rain, it's also time to start thinking about what bands we want to wrap our little ears around. To make things slightly easier I've picked my Glastonbury 2015 weekend highlights. How nice of me, right? Have a listen to the acts I deem worthy of Worthy Farm because I said so. Maybe I will see you there. 

Leon Bridges

River

I wanna come near and give you / Every part of me / But there's blood on my hands

Friday / John Peel Stage / 14:00 - 14:40

Father John Misty

Chateau Lobby #4 (In C for Two Virgins)

I haven’t hated all the same things / As somebody else / Since I remember 

Saturday / The Park Stage / 18:30 - 19:30

Slaves 

Hey

A bleeding heart welcomes the sharks / Come to tear your world apart

Saturday / John Peel Stage / 14:00 - 14:40

Lianne La Havas

Unstoppable

I was like a satellite spinning away / Almost lost forever and leaving no trace

Sunday / John Peel Stage / 19:05 - 20:05

FKA Twigs

Kicks

What do I do when you're not here? / I get my kicks like you

Sunday / West Holts Stage / 20:30 - 21:30

Pyramids and Parks

If you've come up for air between episodes of Orange is the New Black, you'll have noticed that unfortunately the world has been carrying on without you. Somewhere deep within that myriad of pop-culture news, you may have heard that living-legend Dave Grohl broke his leg and, in the most badass way ever, continued the gig whilst getting his leg casted up. It was then announced that Foo Fighters would have to miss out on headlining Glasto this year. Much, much less badass.

It does mean that Florence and the Machine will be headlining the Friday night Pyramid slot. (Yaaaas Flo.) ((Sorry Foos.)) It also means that this years headline acts are perhaps the most musically diverse headliners for a good while. Although the headliners present a pleasing clash of musical stylings, there are many other clashes and contradictions that run the festival.

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The Music

Firstly, the festival experience wouldn't be complete without a line up time table clash. Sometimes this is casted by terrible scheduling (The XX and Mumford and Sons clash of 2012; brutal and exhausting) and sometimes it's just a matter of taste. So, before you go bargaining of a few cans of warm cider for an extra ten minutes at The Who, whilst your pals wanna be getting 'on it' at The Chemical Brothers' set, let's thank our lucky stars that there's only a few little blips on a mostly perfect line up.

When trying to make heads or tails of what's on the Pyramid Stage or the Other stage or the other other stage, the first line up struggle (or first world struggle) comes early Friday from two indie/alternative heavyweights; Alabama Shakes versus Catfish and the Bottlemen.

Vs.

I cannot, cannot, cannot give enough praise for Alabama Shakes. They have perhaps been at the centre of most of the content I've written in 2015 (and I had to write a 10000 word final project for my degree.) So it may come as a surprise, when I confess I'm probably going to walking my wellies over to the Other Stage to bop about to Van McCann and his band have a good ol' sing and probably say offensive things about the music industry and One Direction. A lot of this is down to logistics; catch the first bit of Alabama Shakes, run across the site, watch the end of Catfish and the Bottlemen and you're standing ready for Jungle's set on the same stage. Of course, what it comes down to, is how many people in your gang feel the same way. Majority rules, always.

The Crowd

After four years of overly-drunk results-day teen crowds at Reading Festival, the Glasonbury audience came as a bit of a surprise when I first attended last year. Much like the lineup, the people in attendance reflected that wild diversity that the festival champions. 

It was during The Black Key's rather unimpressive performance that we found ourselves watching the family in front of us, rather than the stage. Spread out over a pink picnic blanket was three generations of a family, essentially having a grand time together. It makes so much sense to have Glastonbury as the ultimate British stay-cation. It was something we'd never seen at previous festivals and something we vowed to do when we were all grown up and adult and had maybe reproduced. 

Alternatively, as Glastonbury is the mecca to music lovers of all kinds, you get the crowd that are there purely to party themselves into a good story to share. These are the kids that look like they should probably be in Ibiza, sleep their way through most the bands and appear only after sunset but always with sunglasses to head straight to Shangri-La. Power to 'em. 

I think the best way to approach the festival is to experience it from both sides, because essentially it is just that; an experience. Have a chill drinking day of watching bands, lounging about and praying for a little sunshine, but don't be afraid to go out with the metaphorical guns blazing at night time too. Remember to sleep at some point, just a little bit, otherwise you may not make it to Sunday.

The Weather 

Would it be a proper festival experience if you weren't half drenched and sunburnt at the same time? No, it wouldn't. The need for both wellies and sunglasses is one of the most traditional clashes of festival heritage, I can assure you. Last year, we camped directly under a pylon and feared for our lives as the festival came to a halt during an electrical storm. It bucketed it down last year, well and truly bucketed but it was also bloody hot in those few rare moments that the sun broke through. You can't win. Do as you're told by anyone giving their two pence, prepare for everything. Prepare for sunstroke, prepare to watch drunk people mud wrestling and prepare to have a shower, just not in the way you'll be desperate for. 

Glastonbury is full of clashes; from culture, political and even to what food truck to eat from. (Chicken nuggets and noodles are never a good idea, it's not worth £6, don't do it. Try something different and half decent.) It's what makes the festival so exciting and so worth the £220 price tag. Embrace it and you'll enjoy it, because I said so. (See you there!) 

Fashion Hangover

Once upon a time I blagged my way through a textiles course. After so many tears, one horrific pink dress and a semi-decent grade I turned my back on the fashion industry. It clearly wasn't for me. Five years and thousands of outfits later, I returned to the scene to write about Graduate Fashion Week and somehow found myself a sense of purpose. Pats self on the back.

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I'm writing to you in yesterday's make up, slumped and surrounded by ice-cream wrappers. It very much looks like like I'm nursing heart-break and I guess I am. When the opportunity to freelance for GFW came about I didn't think much of it. We joked that it would probably be a few proud mums pouring jugs of squash in a community hall, talking about their 'baby's first collection.' I was unemployed, broke and bloody bored (and still am, for the most part) and it was a writing job that looked interesting. Now, ready to sing All By Myself into an empty bottle of wine, I'm gutted it's over. What went down at #GFW2015 was completely unexpected and completely brilliant.

I didn't really sleep too much or ever properly wake up and I guess I accidentally dieted on fake chocolate bars and tiny salads. My brain is still trying to think of new ways to say 'collection' or 'designer' without sounding repetitive. Everything aches and I can't really function or articulate or look at a sentence without wondering if I've actually spelt the words right or put them in the right order or whether I should just delete it altogether. I'm exhausted -but I loved it. I loved every frantic and fabulous moment.

Right now, I'm finding it rather difficult to make sense, so I'll leave you with this rambling introduction and an entirely vague promise that I'll post more about it all. My notepad is filled with scribbles from all the shows and interviews I managed to attend so I think I can offer up a unique perspective of the fashion outsider, inside. Maybe. Probably not. But I'll write it anyway.

Have a picture of the media team, more than a little tired and drunk. Come back soon, because I said so.

@CnnrYng / @rosemary_pitts / @odabeide / @DarcieTF / @fifinicholls / @lilybethgee / @pjoebe