The night is bitter, the stars have lost their glitter

Oh mannn, how have I been SO absent from this little haven of narcissism?  I have gone almost a month without talking about, or posting gratuitous photographs of, myself!  Let me rectify that immediately:

During my radio silence, I seem to have gone up to 46 followers.  Jiminy!  Hello, new friends-on-the-Internet!

I have got a post about cartoon mice in the pipeline for you, which will maybe go up this weekend, if I can be mithered.

Here is another photograph, in homage to my new red trousers (My little Oasis problem strikes again)

I went to see 'End of the Rainbow' on Friday night, which was excellent, although not exactly a barrel of laughs.  I was so captivated by Judy's costumes, all sequin twin-sets and huge neck scarves, that when it came to dressing to go out on Saturday night, I couldn't help but try to evoke a little 'late-'60s cabaret' with my outfit.  Turns out I've got woefully few sequinned items in my repertoire, so this was the best I could do.  Not terribly Judy, but I like it anyway.

Of course, I couldn't resist having a go at the Signature Judy Hand, as demonstrated so marvellously by both Tracie Bennett and the lady herself...

She came to a sticky end alright, but WHAT a performer.

Toasty Warm at the North Pole

Newcastle is sporting almost a foot of snow at the moment:

It's all very picturesque, but in the past week I've spent an inordinate amount of money on items to keep me warm.

My jolly old pink tweed winter coat has been on its last legs for the past two or three years.  It was my birthmas present in 2004 and Mum threatened to withold it if I fannied around any more on the subject of completing my UCAS application form personal statement, which was supposed to have been done in October, only my devious ploy was to NEVER do it, and thus NEVER go to university and stay seventeen FOR EVER HOORAY!  (Yes, you may all roll your eyes at me.  I am.)  Anyway, lovely pink bribe coat's lining is in shreds and tatters, one button doesn't match the others because it pinged off and I replaced it with an odd one, one button is missing altogether, it lets in the rain, and in all honesty it's too small, so I thought it wouldn't be too much of a needless extravagance to spend my birthday money (oh crap, must write thank-you letter to Granny!) on a lovely new coat from Oasis.  

It was actually several months ago that I started eyeing up this coat, but I'd been very indecisive about it for a long time, because it was rather expensive. Then I found myself unexpectedly on a course on Friday, and it finished at 3 and I was in town already so I thought "Bonus!  Free shopping afternoon!", and of course I found myself, quite against my will, being magnetically drawn into Oasis, and lo and behold they were having a random 20% off day, which took the coat over the threshold from the scary three-digit zone into the more acceptable two-digit zone, and I had a birthday cheque (cough ahem write thank-you letter to Granny tonight before you forget again cough ahem) burning a hole in my pocket and my mind was made up.  Except my mind wasn't made up, because I had to try the coat on in both colour variations FOUR TIMES EACH before I eventually decided to get it in grey, on the basis that it would look better with red accessories.  As you see:

 

So that was keeping most of me warm, but in addition to that I've also had to buy those very schön polkadot wellies that you see above, a pair of knee-high fur slippers and the best £10 I've ever spent, a pair of thigh-high cable-knit woollen stockings! 

Grey woollen coat, red polka-dotted skirt, grey woollen socks, red polka-dotted wellies.
Also pictured (accidently, but I rather like the effect), my No. 1 winter warmer, the switch for my trusty electric blanket.

They're seriously the best things ever.  I refuse to be cornered into wearing trousers (hate the things) for the duration of this 'cold snap' (Er no, Kirsty the Daybreak weathergirl, I think you mean 'bleakest midwinter'), so I've been simply slipping these babies on over my usual thin tights for my walk Herculean struggle through knee-deep snow to work, then peeling them off once I arrive (to the general hilarity of the staff room, but they'll get used to me and my dressing up).  They're so lovely and snug, and also they're woollen stockings and they make me feel like a Chalet School girl in the Alps in 1935.  I'm going to get them in every colour.

So between that lot and the leather gloves, polkadot scarf and cashmere jumper that I was given for my birthday by various lovely people, I've been as warm as (betteon)toast.  Oh, and I must just show you my other secret weapon...

 

That's a very lovely, Christmassy vinatge box, Bette.  What can be within?



 

Hmm, looks...furry?





Nice vintage label, these garments must be very elegant and chic...



ARGH KING KONG HANDS!
(Note the artfully placed, seasonally-themed clutter in the background - coats, wellies and brolly)

Fur and leather ENORMOUS gloves, possibly fashioned from the paws of an actual gorilla (doubtful but you never know).  I must admit, I did think "Yeah, never gonna wear those" when they were given to me by one of my more eccentric relatives several years ago, but that was before I'd lived through a Newcastle winter.

Overheard in the staffroom this morning:
"Do you have a pair of wellies to co-ordinate with EVERY outfit, Elizabeth?"

While we're on the theme of wellies, I wore mine out for drinks on Friday night, much to the scorn of Simon, who claimed I looked like a farmer.  I thought I looked like Keira Knightley in The Edge of Love, but we agreed to disagree.

(I was digging, 'cos that's what farmers do)

Victory was mine, however, when the blizzards meant that we had no hope of getting a taxi and had to walk much of the way home.  Poor Simon's feet were soaked in his flimsy canvas Converse [/completely sarcastic fake sympathy].  And then we made a snowman and snow angels in the middle of our street because it seemed like fun at the time. 

This toast post has got ridiculously large.  None of you care this much about my winter woolies.  I'm off to write my thank-you letter to Granny.  Nighty night!

You can have them when they come into the sale, Hamer, and not before!

You know it's bad news when you visit the Oasis website (ONLY because I was ebaying one of my Oasis skirts and I'd bought it recently enough that I thought there still might be a picture of it on the site that would look more professional and inviting to bidders than my crappy snap!  Honest!) and the front page has a strip displaying a small selection of the newest wares...

...and you instantly go "I want THAT and THAT and THAT and THAT and THAT but not that dull handbag on the end."

Dear Oasis, 

I have an exciting new advertising opportunity for you!  For just £200 per month (payable in Oasis vouchers if you please) you can be the SOLE sponsor of FASCINATING new style blog Bette on Toast, which has a large readership of literally SEVERAL people!  How about it? 

Love, Bette xxx

Skirting the ironing board

Behold my favourite skirt:

Saw it in Oasis (of course), all £35 of it, hanging right next to the sale rail in order to tempt thrifty shoppers like me away from their bargains.  Tried it on, adored it, flippantly said to Alexa that it wasn't practical, wasn't flattering, wouldn't go with anything, and I'd wait for it to come into the sale.  Found it in the sale about a month ago, fifteen quid, MINE.  Took it on lots of adventures, delighted in its silly ruffles, general bliss all round.

UNTIL.

Washed it today.  Hadn't got around to washing it before. (Yes, after owning it for a month.  Don't judge me.)  Didn't bother to heed the warning on the label to wash by itself before first wear in case of colour bleedgae.  Oh, well, never mind, those green pyjamas look better indigo anyway.  Colour bleedage isn't the problem here.  Hung pretty clean skirt out to dry on washing line, due to unseasonable sunshine (In September?!  In Newcastle?!)  Took pretty skirt in when dry. THE BLOODY THING REQUIRES IRONING!  I don't iron.  I certainly don't iron denim.  But EVERY SINGLE RUFFLE HAS TO BE IRONED SEPARATELY!  Ghkdnfniushfwoe;hfw!!  I ironed the stupid arsing thing and it took ages.

Stupid ruffles.

Here's a picture of today's ensemble.

Yes, that's ANOTHER Oasis denim skirt, shame shame shame

Ha!  Not a single movie star in this piece of toast!  Instead, here's my great-aunt Margaret sharing my passion for stupid, impractical ruffled skirts:

Into the wardrobe

I'm no Molly MacDonald, but I thought I might as well let Bette on Toast at least masquerade as a respectable style blog before it inevitably cannonballs into "Oh God, she's talking about dead movie stars again" territory. Here are a few of my own sartorial efforts. (As you can tell, I never did figure out a very good place on my shelves to prop up my camera for timer shots. The actually good ones were taken by Stephanie when we were on holiday. So much easier when you have a personal camera monkey around the house.)

And can you guess which lady-of-the-manor style icon I was feeling influenced by this morning??

Hurrah for Molly-style! I so love dressing up.
(I know the beret is unspeakably chic, but it was actually a necessity because today my hair looks like it hasn't seen shampoo for a fortnight.)

Of all the garments you see above...

3 were from charity shops

2 were from vintage shops

1 was from ebay

4 were presents or hand-me-downs

5 were from real shops off the sale rail (4 from Oasis, because I'm a total floozy for Oasis clothes.)

And only 3 were from real shops for real money!

Oh dear, I didn't mean to post quite so many pictures of myself. Honest!!

On another note, Ohmygodthephotouploading/positioningtoolhereonBlogspotisacompleteandutterpaininthebloodyARSEcomebackLivejournalallisforgiven.