Party Party, please stop…
I’ve had a fair few wild nights out in my time, and most of them I’d like to forget. The seriously wild ones I can’t even bear to even re-live in my mind.
I might be persuaded to talk about the time I woke up at 7 am on the grass verge near my house with my sunglasses on fully dressed with a handbag and laptop over each arm. (It must have been summer) When the sun came up, I sat bolt upright. No, no, stop, it’s not working, it’s making me panic, I’d need a stiff drink to finish that story.
One night I am happy to remember is the night I went to a Harry Potter themed fancy dress party dressed in a Premier Inn uniform. I really don't like fancy dress but for some reason pinching the nylon Premier Inn Uniforms from the shoot that day really floated my boat. (Floated my boat? Isn’t that a strange phrase?) Anyway, I digress. When the shoot team asked me if I was going to the “Harry Potter” party (I find it insulting that they would think I’d even entertain the idea) the answer was clearly no. After endless persuasion, I said I’d go if they would all wear the Premier Inn uniforms we had dressed the models in that day. We had been living in Premier Inn Edmonton all week and I smelt like bacon and eggs, we had eaten off the buffet so many times. Oh, the glamour of being a Creative Director.
So, in a Premier Inn (premium suite I might add) we all squeezed into our nylon naughtiness. I have never laughed so much in my life. We had hair and makeup with us. Black mascara-stained tears rolled down my face, I was doubled up in my slightly too tight nylon pants. We got to choose name badges, I was Sinita, a name I always loved which added to my experience. We took a cab back to central London (where we belonged) and the rest is history. What I can tell you is, I was chatted up and had my bum pinched more times in one evening than in my entire life. It must have been the nylon panties. I was smoking. I’m surprised I didn’t go up in flames with the nylon hairspray combo. Or did I? I can’t remember. I have been up in flames but I think that was my hen night. Thats another story.
I say I don’t like fancy dress. When adland had some serious money I won best female fancy dress at a James Bond party out in Buckinghamshire at a weekend-long party. I was Miss Money Penny from "You Only Live Twice". I handmade a sailors costume and seem to remember high heels and a feather bower in tow. Myself and Jaws were picked up by a copter (love saying that word) off the lawn and flown down the Thames as our prize. I woke up in bed with eight people that morning in a Buckinghamshire suite, thats something else I’d like to forget.
My very first Christmas party in adland was not so glamorous. I was a young Creative intern and my writer at the time asked if I’d like to go as a Pantomime horse. I got the back end. So while all the stunning, gold lame, eyelash beauties pranced around the party, I sweated like a pig or horse. Needless to say, I never repeated that mistake again.
What has all this got to do with wall art you might ask? Well, it leads nicely onto a night out at the Affordable Art Fair, I nearly wrote adorable then. I think they should change the name. I'll call them later.
I woke up after the Affordable Art Fair, my heart was banging. The panic, the dread, the price tag, the art? I crawled across the bedroom floor still dressed from the night out looking for my handbag. Luckily the receipt was in there. Three thousand pounds, not ideal, really not ideal. I scanned the receipt for the artist, it was Rob Ryan the papercut artist. He wasn't very well known at the time. "The Stars Shine all Day Too" is a Limited Edition 5/10. It's absolutely huge. The Rebecca Hossack gallery in Soho kindly kept it safe for me. So, when I say "I wear my heart on my walls" there you go, an honest account of how my art collection has developed over the years.
The moral of the story is whatever you do this Christmas DO NOT BUY ART DRUNK. Festive madness is fine, snog your boss, photocopy your private parts, but please not the art. Art is a considered purchase. I am not sure how I feel about the Rob Ryan piece. I don't have a deep connection with it like all the other pieces in my home. I do giggle sometimes when I think about it. It has also inspired me to write this very open, somewhat shaming magazine piece.
I'm going out tonight (Saturday) and I don't drink so much anymore but if I was to get drunk, thank god Julie Cockburn has moved to Suffolk. The piece at the top is the one I have my eye on. It’s called “Midday” she embroiders on top of photography.
Anyway, sit down pour yourself a glass of wine and head to our Christmas Collection. “Last orders” are 10th December for framed pieces and 18th December for prints and unframed art.