1. You are always lurking about somewhere, just waiting to creep up when we’re least suspecting it.

2. YOU COME OVER EVERY WEEK. EVERY WEEK. Is that really necessary? NO ONE LIKES YOU, MONDAY (unless of course your first name is BankHoliday in which case, welcome to my life.)

3. My desk is always a mess on a Monday morning.. And the work is almost always more stressful. All because of the lax attitude demonstrated on the Friday before. Friday Sophie likes to mess with Monday Sophie, you see.

4. Monday morning means bad moods all round which makes for bad office vibez and too much coffee. And it’s never good coffee on a Monday. There’s always leftover Friday milk which is often a tad questionable but inevitably used.

5. Monday. Everyone hates you. WHY DON’T YOU JUST GO KILL YOURSELF. (And other teenage bitch insults etc etc) GO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE, I HATE YOU!!!


Tuesday tomorrow bitchessssssss



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SO. I joined POF. Partly ironically, partly out of curiosity. I’ll keep you updated with the nonsense which I am sure will take place as a result of this. But for now, here’s a screen grab of my profile. Such lols.

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End of term blues: deadlines and disco revision

This week has been a very busy one. My MA course is hectic at the best of times, but this week has been a complete catastrophe. Not only has there been sun on days when I had promised myself I wouldn’t leave my desk, but there has also been torrential rain on the days when I’ve needed to venture to Bute Library. It seems, dear readers, that I can’t win.

Yesterday was the hardest day. I was in a Bute computer room for about twelve hours working on both finishing my final essays and losing my mind. Both were successful. I was happy to have had company with fellow PR students all day though. I imagine that my time in Bute yesterday (though probably shorter with fewer distractions) would have been significantly more miserable.

Highlights included: writing about law, whooping in corridors after the group submission, continuing to write about law, having a five minute disco in room 0.35 and being walked back to my car by Jez in the late and cold night air.

Indeed, the MA JOMEC lot aren’t half bad, you know. I’ve met some of the most wondefully brilliant and interesting people that I’ve ever known. To be honest, the fact that term time has come to an end and the lonely dissertation period is creeping up on us is making me feel a bit sickened.

If there’s one thing I wish, it would be that we were all undergrads. Then I’d get to keep these fascinating people nearby for at least another two years. As it stands at this moment in time, we’ll all be heading our separate ways soon. To different counties, cities and countries – both far and wide. It is all very depressing.

PR crew

The thing is, we’ve all got bigger fish to fry. We’re all grown ups now, ready for grown up jobs, taking our first steps as REAL people and acting responsibly (at least most of the time…)

I’m just about to head into uni to hand in my last pieces of work. It’s a bit sad, really.

There are two things cheering me up, however.

The first thing is the fact that everyone is going out tonight to celebrate the end of deadlines and my friend Sarah’s birthday.

The second is the fact that I have recently come across this little gem:

Whether or not you are a Made In Chelsea fan, if you love fashion I guarantee you’ll be interested in Millie Mackintosh’s style diary. We can’t all be skinny and endlessly rich, of course. But we can try and recreate some of the truly amazing looks she’s rocking on her blog. I plan on having a cheeky scan of the outfits before I decide what I’m wearing tonight.


Until next time, kids.

Sophie x

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Speed Awareness: my very small “brush” with the law

I’ve got a question for you. Okay. Two questions.

Have you ever exceeded the speed limit? Have you ever been caught red-handed whilst doing so?

It’s probably yes to at least one of those, isn’t it?

I’ll be honest here, readers. The other day I got caught speeding. (34 miles an hour in a 30 zone. What can I say? I’m a rebel #yolo).. As a commuter travelling every day from Swansea to Cardiff, it was bound to happen eventually.. The thing is, I’m not a petrol head, I’m not a wannabe boy-racer, and I’m not a characteristically dangerous driver. So understandably, I was pretty embarrassed about it.

The letter from the police stated that I had a choice. I could either take three points on my otherwise perfectly shiny and clean driving licence or I could attend a speed awareness course for a wallet emptyingly expensive £85. Whilst being very poor, I decided that taking three points on my licence for such petty speeding wasn’t an option. Especially as it was likely to boost my insurance premium to an extortionate level. No. I decided that I would go on the course. So, I very reluctantly booked myself in for a course on the 30th April 2013.

So, as today is April 30th, this afternoon I found myself sitting in a blue and grey hotel conference room surrounded by fellow rebel law-breakers. This is where I would stay for the next four hours. A place where the importance of speed signs, the need for safer driving and “what made us do it” would be the hot topics of conversation.

Looking around me, it seemed that the course had brought in a real cross section of society. We were a heel-dragging bunch of speeders linked only by the fact that we all looked a bit miffed at having to sit inside for four hours on a rare glorious day in South Wales. There were van drivers, cap-wearing cheeky chappies, new mums, office workers, business hot-shots, students, granddads and new drivers. It was interesting to observe the way in which these vastly different groups of people interacted during the course. A business hot-shot woman became best friends with the van driver next to her. A quiet office worker quickly transformed into a teacher’s pet and was raising his hand enthusiastically at any given opportunity. There was even a lady who kept putting eye drops into her eyes. That doesn’t really have anything to do with group interaction. It was quite graphic though. I think that’s why I remember it. I was also surprised to see a large number of attractive young girls on the course. I was a bit disappointed actually. It really doesn’t do anything for the typical gender stereotype concerning driving ability.

Unfortunately I am sworn to confidentiality in terms of what was spoken during the course. It was a bit like a secret club. A secret club meeting. Except significantly less exciting.

It was good, though. Indeed, the purpose of this blog post is to encourage you all to take the course (if caught speeding. Not of your own fruition.) Generally only small-time speeders (people exceeding the limit by only 1-12 mph) are given the opportunity of taking the course, so it is really nothing to be ashamed about.  There are so many different people on it that any sense of embarrassment soon goes out of the window. The women who presented the course were endlessly lovely and provided a powerpoint presentation which involved lots of group work and audience participation. The information provided was useful, thought-provoking and interesting. In all honesty, it was very different to what I had imagined.

I have come out of the course with a new take on driving and a newfound knowledge of the real reasons behind speed limits. So, in future I’ll be trying my best to stick to speed limits. It is not as if I was a big-time speeder before. It’s just that I got caught slightly over the limit on one occasion. I could have just as easily have been involved in an accident. I know which way round I would rather it have been.

Driving home from the course, I was very aware that I was in a line of cars driven by people who were on the same course as me. Because of this, I was doing my best to drive responsibilty. I was in an imaginary competition where my goal was to prove my ability to intake information. The responsible driving race was on.

Hilariously, (or not hilariously, as the case may be) the first thing that the fellow speeder in front of me did was to go through a blatant red light. Oh dear.

See you next time, chaps.

Lots of love x

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A new venture: Mansnaps

I’ve always been a fan of two things.

The first: well-dressed men (particularly those in good footwear).

The second: writing about anything and everything.

So, when I came across an opening for a position as a new contributor for online menswear magazine Mansnaps a few weeks ago, it caught my eye. Noting the link between my two favourite things, I thought it would be worth getting in touch with the company. After all, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Or so they say.


I wrote an email to Mansnaps explaining that whilst I definitely wasn’t male, I had a passion for menswear. I suggested that it might be interesting to provide a fresh female perspective on mens fashion. The email was quite cheeky. Not rude. Just.. Full of naff jokes which probably showed my true identity as a massive wally just a little bit too much.. After I sent the email I started to panic. It definitely isn’t a great example of what one should send to a prospective employer or internship provider.. Luckily for me, Mansnaps founder Matthew seemed to enjoy the content of the email (phew) and invited me to send a few examples of what I could do for them.

I immediately started writing away (this is the main reason why I have neglected this blog a little bit. Sorry, lovely blog-readers) and sent a few examples of my work to Matthew as quickly as possible.

Following this, Matthew agreed that he would like me to contribute to the website. So far I have written a personal introduction, a piece about amazing brand Serge DeNimes (founded by Made In Chelsea star Oliver Proudlock) and an article about my fave picks for SS 2013 footwear. And now, I’m busy writing a review of Oliver Sweeney’s SS13 footwear collection.

To top it off I have also been invited to attend brand press days in London as a member of the Mansnaps team. I went to the ASOS press day in Covent Garden last week. This involved looking at, taking pics of and chatting to PRs about all the gorge new menswear items and trends from ASOS for the next year. Of course, we also had a little look at the ladies wear in order to satisfy my own selfish fashion urges.

Here is a picture of Mansnaps designer-wear contributor Owen Moss-Proctor and myself at the ASOS press day after eating lots of cured meats and cheeses. Very swish.

ASOS press day Sophie and Owen

I’m supposed to be going to the H&M press day this week and have made it very clear that I’m keen to attend as many as possible before the season of press days ends!

I’m loving it.

If you’d like to have a look at the Mansnaps website or to read some of my work, please click on one of the following links:

I’d love to hear what you think. It would be really helpful, actually.

Also, they are well worth a follow on Twitter! @MANSNAPS

Much love, Sophie x

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Samantha Brick: Journalist. Attention seeker. Anti-feminist. Idiot.

It’s a bold title. But when considering Samantha Brick’s latest article alongside her already large repertoire of outrageous published opinions, I think it is a safe one. I am not a fan of Samantha Brick. Let’s start there. She first sprang into the public spectrum after writing an article which shamelessly claimed that her life has been burdened by the fact that other women hate her because she is beautiful. Quite a statement, I think you’ll agree. That’s all in the past anyway. Brick’s latest article has an even more offensive message.

Let me paint a picture for you. It will depict the perilous interior journey that I took upon reading Brick’s article.

It all began with a library. I was writing an essay. As with any essay writing experience, it involved a great deal of flitting back and forth between Microsoft Word and Twitter. Write a paragraph. Write a Tweet. Write a paragraph. Scroll through Twitter. You get the picture. It was on one of my Twitter visits that I became aware the name Samantha Brick was trending. Wondering what she had been up to this time, I clicked on a few links and found myself face to face with a Daily Mail article headlined:

“Joan Collins is right. Any woman who wants to stay beautiful (like me!) needs to diet every day of her life.”

I prepared myself for the worst as I read on. I knew that rage would soon be upon me.

In short, the article explains that women who do not reflect certain standards of beauty in their body shapes are inherent failures. Brick claims to have dieted for 30 years in order to meet these tough standards and argues that every “self-respecting woman” should do so too. Of course, these “standards” of beauty according to the well-informed Samantha Brick are all dictated by the desires of men. Indeed, in this article Brick duly notes that:

“For three decades, self-denial has been my best friend. And one of my biggest incentives is that I know men prefer slim women. I have only ever dated men who kept a strict eye on my figure. My partners are not only boyfriends but weight-loss coaches. My first love continually reminded me that one can never be too rich or too thin, and my husband of five years frequently tells me that if I put on weight he will divorce me.”

I was getting a bit hot under the collar by this point. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Doesn’t he sound great, readers? What a meaningful relationship. That husband of hers is definitely a keeper. I wonder if Samantha Brick has ever told her husband that she’ll divorce him if he gains 5lbs? I think not. And I’ll tell you for why.

I believe that this is not just a debate about an irresponsible message from an attention-seeking journalist who is essentially trying to gain a bit of media attention. The message she really conveys is one that encourages a decline in female body confidence and a rise in eating disorders. In fact, the main message that she communicates is the very sad fact that her life is defined purely by the amount of attention that she receives from men. Is it really that wonderful? Is it really worth starving yourself over? (This is beside the point, but I genuinely believe that men prefer the ladies with a few well-placed sexy curves! In which case, Brick is wasting her time here even more than I initially thought.)

The article tells women that if they are over a certain dress size they are not good enough for their husbands or partners. Goodness knows what it is suggesting to the single ladies. Go and listen to a bit of Beyonce, girls, that’ll make you feel better. Still, I can’t help but wonder how, if women attack and degrade each other continually in this way, we can ever hope to achieve gender equality in the sadly unequal world that we live in? Why on earth should we starve ourselves purely to try and keep a firm grasp of our husbands? Quite frankly, if I had a husband who tried to scare me into losing weight then I would kick him out of the door faster than he could say “Slimming World”.  I am worth more than that! And so is Samantha Brick, although it is clear that she doesn’t realise it. Whilst this article places male attention on a pedestal and gives us all advice on how best to achieve it, I can think of far more interesting things to do with my time.

If the idea of male attention is worth more to Samantha Brick than eating chocolate eggs at Easter or drinking a glass of wine with dinner then I fear that she may be a lost cause. I plea, readers, that you do not follow her.

Here’s a link to the article. Have a read and let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Sophie x

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Roll on Colorado 2013

Hello there,

I hope you are good. Sorry for being a lazy blogger recently. I hope you will forgive me. I don’t really have an excuse.

What I do have however, is an exciting story about what I am going to do in the summer that will make you all seethe with jealousy. Enjoy.

Every three years I attend a family reunion in a little place in the US called Meeker, Colorado. July 2013 is the date of the next reunion.

The Smith family are related to my grandfather, whose aunt married into the family during the second world war. Meeker is a quiet, tiny town that is home to one bar, two hotels and lots of lasso wielding cow farmers. It is a beautiful place most famous for the Meeker Massacre of 1879 – a horrendous bloody battle fought between Ute tribesmen and American government soldiers. It was a literal fight between cowboys and Indians which marked the death of government official Nathan Meeker, after whom the town was later named.


Meeker is full of farmers, cowboys wearing real-life cowboy gear, and teenagers who know how to lasso a cow from the back of a horse. All of this of course means that I don’t really fit in. I wore high heels to a restaurant in 2010 and have never been so gawped at in my entire life. And not in a good way. Of course, six years ago my mum ensured that I would never fit in by making me wear my purple jodhpurs when going horse riding with the American cousins. They are all cowboys. They don’t wear jodhpurs! They don’t even know what jodhpurs are! They wear jeans! I explained this to my mum. At the age of fifteen though, I was powerless to her word. I wore the jodhpurs and am still remembered as the silly little British girl whose mother was determined to embarrass her. She loved it. Luckily though, my older brother was enough of a wally to wear shorts when horse-riding there and he has never lived it down either. Winner.

So, I am going back to Meeker in July but will also be travelling around Colorado on a three week road trip. I will be tubing down lazy CO rivers, horse-riding (in jeans) and even having a look at some incredible dinosaur remains in Dinosaur. I am so excited.

Whenever I go back to Colorado, and Meeker in particular, I feel a sense of nostalgia – the feeling of a place almost frozen in time. The town holds so much memory.

Below are two pictures of an old Smith family bedspread. It was created over the course of several generations by wives who married into the family. Each quilted section details the name of the new family member and the date in which she arrived in Meeker.


I find this so interesting. I am a history nut, but I hope you will agree that this is something special.

What makes this story even more indulgent is the fact that last summer I spent all the money that I had in the world on a road trip in California. I don’t know why I am doing it to myself again really. I still don’t know how I am going to afford it, but I am determined to find a way.

The UK weather is too atrocious at the moment for me to even consider not going. During the arctic Easter weekend that I spent in Swindon of all places, I had a look through some of the US pictures from last summer. Remembering the heat of the Death Valley desert, I tried to make myself feel warm again. The below photo pictures me at the hottest I have ever felt in my life. Temperature wise. This picture is from a distance for a reason.


Roll on the summer!!

Sophie x

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