Those who may recall my previous adventures in the world of fake tannery will know it's not an area where my talents lie. Not really surprising then that last summer I steered well clear. (Surely this is why they invented sarongs?) But impressed by the natural-looking bronze of a good friend's calves a couple of months ago I relented and did venture as far as buying an exfoliating mitt before chickening out once again.
But then I was in Boots earlier in the week and they had a load of things on sale including one of those moisturisers which adds the faintest tinge of colour (which you can then build up over a few weeks into something approximating the sun-kissed look). I had tried one of these before, but found the colour change so minimal it wasn't worth the faff. But then this was a half price bargain...so wasn't it worth having just one more go?
I bought it on Monday. I applied, post shower, on Tuesday and Wednesday (yesterday) figuring if I committed to it daily I might eventually get rid of the duck-egg-blue tinge that means I have to sport a minimum of 50 deniers before I can ever think about getting my legs out in public.
Then last night, sick of sweltering, I squeezed in a quick swim before dinner. It was the usual sprint to the gym, cozzie on, clothes chucked in locker...and then, heading for the door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror.
My legs were bright orange.
Not a "delicate glow". Not a "summer shimmer". Not "gently sun-kissed".
Bright orange. With white chevrons from flip-flop wear. And black stripes from flip flop residue.
Ever listened to glam rockers Mud and wondered what "tiger feet" actually look like?
Well now you know.
Friday, 25 January 2013
In the days before marriage and babies I used to go on a week's holiday with a bag full of books (average ten per week) ...and t-shirts and swimwear chucked in as an afterthought.
The bookshelves in our house (many) are double-banked because we have run out of space. I have a huge, teetering pile by my bed and a huge, teetering (virtual) pile on my kindle too. Oh - and then there's the Amazon wishlist, currently standing at 103. But then, as literary agent Jonny Geller recently said on Twitter, nobody, on their deathbed, regrets reading too many books.
The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka. The blurb (incidentally, my 4 year-old's new favourite word) reads as follows:
"Between the first and second world wars a group of young, non-English-speaking Japanese women travelled by boat to America. They were picture brides, clutching photos of husbands-to-be whom they had yet to meet, Julie Otsuka tells their extraordinary, heartbreaking story in this spellbinding and poetic account of strangers lost and alone in a new and deeply foreign land."
I loved it because it is so beautifully written, so different to anything I have read before, because - perhaps shamefully - I knew nothing about this period in American history and I had no idea what it was like for Japanese women making a new life at that time (something of particular interest because I live in an area with a large Japanese community which could not be regarded more differently.)
The Buddha in the Attic is published in paperback by Penguin and although the giveaway is now closed you can buy the book from Amazon and all good book sellers. Many thanks to all who entered.
Posted by Cari Rosen (aka @cazroz) at 22:04