For the Love of SPOOKY JEWELS....

Beautiful... but deadly. Not so much a who done it as a who wore it -here is a collection of  6 terrifying accessories that have killed their owners, or driven them bananas — at least according to legend. 

1. The Hope Diamond - May the odds be ever in your favour?!?



This pretty little stone is a banana driver, and generally bad karma all around.....

FACTS:
Marie Antoinette - beheaded

King Louis - beheaded - well deserved

Jacques Colet (suicide)

Surbaya (stabbed to death by her royal lover who gifted her the stone) - damn!

Princess de Lamballe (beaten to death by a mob) - and probably raped as well :(

2. The Black Orlov Diamond- Suicide Sally

Also referred to as "The Eye Of Brahma Diamond" this stone was allegedly stolen from one of the eyes in a statue of the Hindu god Brahma in Pondicherry. Which would explain the curse, and the many suicides to follow the owners of this black diamond.

FACTS:

J.W. Paris (who is the one responsible for bringing the diamond to the US in 1932) jumped to his death from a skyscraper in New York. 

The next owners were two Russian princesses, Nadia Vyegin-Orlov and Leonila Galitsine-Bariatinsky, who both committed suicide (months apart) by jumping to their deaths from buildings in Rome. 

Next it was cut into three different pieces by a jeweler who proclaimed the division would break the curse. 

Actress Felicity Huffman was supposed to wear the necklace at the 2006 Academy Awards, but mysteriously decided against it. Um...Smart MOVE.

3. The Koh-i-Noor Diamond - BOYS BEWARE!!

This 186 ¹⁄₁₆ carats, diamond can be seen in the Tower of London on display as a massive part of the Crown Jewels. 

FACTS:

The diamond was taken from India in 1850 and given to the British Royal Family. Today, it's currently set into the Crown of Queen Elizabeth. 

Every man who has worn the stone has lost his throne. Which may be why it's never been worn by a male since Alexandra placed it on her head.

4. The Real Life "One Ring to Rule them All"...MWA HA HA!!!


FACTS:
Potentially Precious. The ring that inspired J.R.R. Tolkien to invent the One Ring of Middle Earth. Possibly, maybe. The ancient Roman ring bears the inscription (in Latin)
                                                      "Senicianus live well in God." 
That inscription ties it to a Roman tablet inscribed with a curse on the man who stole it. So...... don't steal it. 

5. The Delhi Purple Sapphire - Warning, TOUCHY OUCHIE!!!

This jewel was discovered just 30 years ago by Peter Tandy, curator at the Natural History Museum in London. Found inside the museum's "mineral cabinets" the gem was supposedly sealed up in several boxes, surrounded by protective charms and came with a warning:

“Whoever shall then open it, shall first read out this warning, and then do as he pleases with the jewel. My advice to him or her is to cast it into the sea.”

 FACTS: Many suspect the gemstone (which is not technically a sapphire) was part of the looted treasure stolen from Temple of Indra in Cawnpore during the bloody Indian Mutiny of 1857. The cursed quartz was brought into England by Bengal Cavalryman Colonel W. Ferris, who eventually went bankrupt, as did his son (after he inherited the stone).It was then purchased by writer Edward Heron-Allen, who later claimed it brought him nothing but bad luck. So he gave it away to friends, who promptly returned it after experiencing mountains of misfortune including a singer who lost her singing voice (FOREVER!!) after possessing the stone. 

6. The Lydian Hoard = TROUBLED TREASURE, my favourite...

The Lydian Hoard is a collection of elaborate jewelry, plates, pots and other golden pieces - HEAVEN. But this brooch and necklace from the L Hoard have caused its owners nothing but trouble. 
FACTS:
A part of King Croesus' treasure, the loot dates back to 547 B.C. 
Enter 1965 and let the real trouble begin...WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!  Discovered in the tomb of an unknown princess who i will name "Princess Trouble", and promptly looted by just about everyone.  Almost all the "everyone" looters met with sickness, bad luck and death. Oh dear.
Dontcha love it how almost all these stories originate from India?!? 

Super Inspired, I turned my witchy attention on my own loot du jour. A magic frenzy of  make- believing-bling- a- ling -a- ding- dongs which included a little private photographic voodoo oasis ritual (see exhibit below) and wedding quotes "In sickness and in health" ahh, ummm, "till death do us part" etc...

The buddha's and the rabbits were there posing for my own protection. But Mona Lisa Babe wasn't havin' any of it AND>>>>>....>>>>>

..>>The next day I came down with the flu.  Quelle Bummere!

***********************

THE WONDER YEARS ARE OVER

THE WONDER YEARS ARE OVER.

 ......FOR NOW.

It's been a wild 2 years. Its been expensive. 

I've come a long way since that very first day getting called a "convict" by a deranged wacko inside the Mare Street Post Office.
Housey - wise, I was a picky little thing. I seemed to love packin' my bags and moving on every few months, sometimes even days in that first year. This Goldilocks behaviour went to my head, and in the summer of  2011 (house number #4) I dyed and emerged blonde.

When I moved to London in the winter of 2010 I didn’t have any friends.

I knew that under most circumstances living with a drug dealer is probably a stupid idea. When I say drug dealer I mean the single most unqualified, inconceivably incompetent person on the face of Earth. So instead, I decided to make the novice mistake of moving in with a random stranger I met on Gumtree.   As long as its not a drug dealer as long as its not a drug dealer as long as its not a drug dealer...How bad could it be?

BAD.

Her name was Holly and she didn't exactly deal drugs, but she took them and and as a result she was constantly on the brink of a complete freakout brain-explosion. If drug eaters were types of facial hair, Holly would be a goatee. If they were crimes against humanity, she would be Zorro's doom. It was that bad - no sympathy required.

Moving on and away from the incessant flicker of the criminally insane (the universe does provide), 7 houses and 14 months later I finally made peace with my situation -  and my hair colour. 

In the vicinity formally known as Murder Mile lay the long and winding Clarence Road, and my new home.

                             

Never short of riot rage or questionable CCTV, Clarence  featured bombs, helicopters, scared cops, no cops, fires, yeti sightings, funeral marches?!?, money laundering, shootings, private clubs and other forms of Xratedtainment. When my soul wasn't leaving my body, Clarence and I got along really well. I learnt a fuckload about Jamacian lifestyle, Jamacian values, their childish enjoyment of crude sexual swearwords and brilliant gags that masqueraded the so-called 'Clarence satire'. They are inquisitive little buggers. "Why don't you have any clothes on? Do you "do it" for Jesus? Do you use your mascara to pick padlocks?  Who saves your butt? Is your vagina jewish? Why aren't you wearing shoes? Do you wear underwear? Do you like giving hand jobs? How come your so tall, boyfriend? (a popular one), What planet did Australia come from before it came to Hackney?" General stuff like that that made me feel good, in a neighbourly kinda way. 

Mare St. You Hoax, You Holy ol' thing. We have been apart for exactly one week and I do not miss you at all. You are a weird science of PFCness I could never quite find the soundtrack too, but i guess if i had to pick one song it would be She Bop.  Narrow Way may as well have been a free STD lovin' masturbation clinic as far as my sweet elbows were concerned. Prams, crack heads/mutants, buses, rats, McFlyer strangers, space sausages, professional zombies, other shameful, self-loating financial slaves and dead birds (that I swear were still alive) rubbed against me like a used vibrator. Gross. I guess all those STD's floating around did make me feel like I was living on the edge, dodging the face of danger...

Don't get me wrong, I think you'd all be great in a  TESCO video game. Dodge YOUSE and you get a bonus. Keep them elbows clean and get you win a voucher. Earn points for knowing if  its off or just "organic" and upgrade to a TESCO in Notting Hill, where you can rub elbows with the rich and make a real pound or two.

And P.S Ridley Road, your chavvy £1 baseball tops may transcend my eternal lifetime day-to-day hots but your other chavvy ways absolutely repulse me.  Plus, I know about the rats instead of meat trick because, get this, I actually watch the news.

R.I.P my Hackney days, my fondest bedtime story....

I don't know how I will live without you.

Sincerely,

Rosie K.

                          

But I guess what my point is (if I'm even making one), is I've had so much fun in this grimy thrilling be all big city, and now its time I dedicated some serious blog devotion to my London Family.

Apart from writing this blog, Spiderchavving and gettin' Kmossed like a full force trashbag, I worked for Jordan Askill. Yes, I actually had a job (at one point I even had 2!) although the way i used to sneak it in and around my party lifestyle even i find unbelievable. THANKYOU Jordy, for giving me a job, taking me to Paris Pashion Week, and teaching me that everything is possible. We will always have Paris X.

As for YOU, LONDON FASHION WEEK, there's a million pictures of me looking super try hard, and i cherish them all.
Miss Nadine! We drank for free, promoting ourselves and entertaining others.  I will never forget the night we owned Claridges like VIP fashion thugs. Too good. You are my mischeif machine, my voodoo crime doll and no, for the last time, you  ARE NOT FAT. YOU ARE FAMOUS. 

Oh!Jack France for being one of the first people I met here, masked exterior and all, and making me feel like London was my home, ie. teaching me how to be famous and #use a knife and fork. You are my pamphlet of Supermodel vaj and I love you. 
                                  

Britta, for being my big sister, my friend, my confidant and gatekeeper to Goldilocks's favourite pad.  

Oh, and of course the time you fed me absinthe (basically the same as blind-folding) and  convinced me i should get a tattoo, and of course D.I.Y in your kitchen. We used a sewing needle and Biro inc for the procedure and when it came to the hard decision between the symbol of Christ and the symbol of Chanel, we chose Christ. A choice  that definitely pissed my mum off. Thank-god you redeemed youself by lending me 800 pounds when I missed my flight across the world so could make it home for Xmas.

Anita King...And so the sun does shine. On all projects pleasures, eternal hots and JESUS FUCKING CHRIST IT'S PASHION WEEK; in particular SS12  where we went to Paris and Kmossed with the RICH and FAMOUS. 

Danutz, what can I say?? You are a Chefudgit and the secret to my happiness.

To all the Danutz's, Ben's, Adam's, Louie's, Marta's, Emmet's, Hildy's, Moonages, Leesa's, Fintan's, Steph's, Lena's, Diana's, Claudia's, Zoe's, Paul's, Katie's, Sanjay's, Judes, ChiChi's, Thea's, Julia's Daniels -your a certifiable bunch, for your careless appetite, your horror bites. Never once did I meet normality, sensibilty or anything else #unlikeable, and i love you all for it.

To my housemates Paul, Jess and Marty for being my family. Thanks guys. For witnessing the many times I've screamed and cried and came and puked,  for pulling my hair out of the drain, for understanding my need to paint the bathroom glow in the dark, for my continuing sex tales, for my friendly bitchy reminders, my personal "missions", my  stolen parmesan promises, my sneaky sunflower seeds, all the candle wax, cigarette butts, cigarette everythings; for basically tolerating everything that a human being can possibly do wrong - including moving in without much permission at all like the little Clapton Slut I was.  I lourvvvve you guys, you're my family 4 eva. Smoochie smooch.

And last but not least, Holly-Anne Buck, the mere- coincidence, the woman with the double name, my fellow hack-vanity project, my SpiderChav, and my CHANEL of 2012 AD. 

X 

X 

But my extra special thanks goes to Marty Schoo.

You are my best friend, my roving beauty spot, my butt saver, my expensive handbag, my hot date, my pain "feeler", wine stealer, writing weird fan fiction human pyramids and something turban dealer. We’ve had  LOADS of fun staring prettily at our respective laptop screens in close proximity, havent we? HOW BO-HO of us, and WAY sexier than watching football!  Marty, You run in my blood. I love you, and there's no way I could have done it without you.xx

Im   back in OZ to be a progressive power whore. Being Australian is so hot right now. Seriously! Everybody's doing it, the flies are getting more sex than I am, only God can afford booze, and the trees are purple.

Seriously, come hang out!

LATERZ!
LOVE + CHEFUDGE TO YOU ALL! 

I promise to flirt with you all on twitter/facebook/whatever.

X

Muggers Beware

 The Internet world is labeling this Chanel Hula Hoop Bag for Spring 2013.

I call it the HooliePursey!

"It's for the beach", says Karl.

"You need space for the beach towel, huh? 

And then you can put it into the sand and hang things on it."

Yes Karl. Its perfect for my beach towel and for hanging thigs on, and maybe even a game of frisbee. I'm also the only person on the beach with my big giant quilted number balanced artfully between 2 hula hoops. Muggers Beware, its only a hula hoop!

HooliePursey, i love you very much.

Picture the scene. You've touched down in St Tropez, your porter has diligently delivered your Chanel-logo'ed surf board, beach ball raquets, inflatable raft and ergonomic hand flippers (seriously) and you're on your private patch of beach toying with idea of going for a swim (you're Kate Moss). Perfect, Huh?

This purse is outrageous, impractical and, most of all, expensive. 

Even cooler, Chanel's frantic spokespeople said they didn’t have a price for the  Hooliepursey!

Its about volume and lightness and 

I WOULD WEAR IT.

Too much pure fantasy? Have a little one instead.

RITZ ROOM SERVICE.

Today's jolly good find is Im getting back into my old scrapbook and gaffa tape ways, now with the new advantageous instagram on my side. Im pretty excited actually, its a nostalgic breath of air for me, it reminds me of those early teenage years when i discovered Interview and i-D magazine, and was torn between ripping it up and sticking it on my wall, or treasuring the magazine into a more lastly existance. Most of the time I chose  the former...

I call this "collection" RITZ ROOMSERVICE.

i love that the make-up is making an effort!

i love its commitement to fashion!

i think its wonderful to look and be unapologetic!