Inside my suitcase

I'm going on holiday! And I'm very excited.

I wasn't planning on going away this year, but when my good friends invited me to Italy with them I looked outside at the rain and booked some last minute flights. I leave tomorrow.

After a long year of university work and campaigning, a few days spent doing absolutely nothing will be a delicious luxury, like eating pudding for breakfast.

I am craving warmth and Italian food (juicy flat peaches that ooze when you bit into them, salty proscuitto and plump tomatoes, ICE CREAM...), and the company of my dear friends.

I spent today packing. I am trying to pack light - I want the refreshing feeling of disappearing with as little baggage as possible (physical and otherwise).

Here's what's going in my suitcase...

Red bikini

I love this cherry red bikini because it's simple and flattering and makes me feel like I should be dancing around in a Special K advert. In a really good way.

I bought it in M&S, not somewhere I was expecting to find sexy swimwear, but I was so impressed on a recent visit there that I was tempted to buy the whole holiday department. Their things are well made and substantial enough for curves, unlike the versions I saw in Topshop that looked as though they were made from dental floss.

I also have a green swimming costume from Marks and Sparks that I love to bits.

Pink bikini

I couldn't resist this bikini from Victoria's Secret, emblazoned with the title of my book, and mismatch flamingo bottoms. Flamingos are my favourite.

Shoes! (And passport)

Holiday reading...

And holiday writing...

My current perfume, that smells like a flowershop.

Lovely L.K Bennett shoes, nabbed for £40 in a discount outlet in Shepton Mallet near my Dorset home.

And PANTS, of course.

 

Have a good week. Ciao! 

Back to Blogging

I'm sorry I've been a bad blogger. Here's a smile. (Me at a recent BBQ competition. Which I WON)

Yes it's been a long time since I blogged.

Things have been pretty busy in Libbyland recently, what with turning 21 (it was hard work. It took me several days to recover) and finishing my university degree (I got a First!! Have a look at my showreel here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=yf2PukrMthc) and campaigning hard for fairer, paid internships. I've done some writing for the Guardian and have been tweeting away (most recently at Tesco Customer Care, after a horrible experience made me angry to the value of a £10 'good will' gift voucher that is now on its way to me.)

Have a look at my shiny updated website, www.libbypage.info, to see what I've been up to.

Despite all the exciting serious things going on in my life at the moment, I think it's time to get some pink and sunshine back into it too. I am of the strong opinion that a woman can love both campaigning and cupcakes, and that you can be a strident feminist and still love to bake and rock a pair of killer red wedges (my latest purchase).

So on this blog I am going to try and celebrate the sunny side of life (as well as probably sharing the occasional rant, because that's just me).

"And if you couldn't be loved, the next best thing was to be let alone." L.M Montgomery

L.M Montgomery said that the next best thing to being loved was to be let alone. I must admit I can understand where she was coming from. You can do what you like, when you like, and no one is going to tell you that it's inappropriate to eat cake for breakfast. (Yes, I ate cake for breakfast this morning.)

I am lucky enough to be loved (here's us, having just won an international BBQ competition representing France in honour of my best friend Juliette. We baked a cake on the BBQ). But one of my favourite things to do is still to spend time by myself in cafés eating cake, or in bookshops strolling through the aisles and tucking up in a corner like a cat. I think the best combination in life is to be loved, whether by a partner, family, friends, your pet poodle or all of the above, but to still enjoy time spent happily alone.

One of my favourite lovely lonely London spots is Woolfson & Tay in Southwark, a delicious independent bookshop with equally delicious cake served in the adjoining café. This slice was raspberry, rose and pistachio and tasted as good as it looked.

This week I received feedback from my final university project (a film about unpaid internships) and found out that I've got a First in my degree.

Unfortunately my friends were all busy that evening, but that wasn't going to stop me from celebrating.
 
I headed to the Southbank, where I spent my evening enjoying the late sunshine. Children were playing in the fountains and the sound of laughter and chatter made me smile.

I stumbled across live music at the Southbank Centre (one of my favourite spots in London), spent well over an hour in Foyle's, bought two books (Franny and Zooey, J.D Salinger and The Pursuit of Love, Nancy Mitford) and bought dinner from the food stalls outside the Southbank Centre.

Then I headed back to my flat and watched the sun setting like melting pastels out my window, glass of wine in hand.




All in all it was a pretty perfect evening.


You don't have to be lonely when you're alone (and you don't have to be alone to be lonely).

Libby

A flower for a flower

Flowers make me happy

Which is probably not surprising because blooms are in my blood. My mum is a florist and has written six books about flower shops. I love the smell of flower shops - the top notes of the flowers but also the base of wet oasis and foliage. I wish I could bottle that smell.

Having flowers in my flat feels like a sweet little luxury and always makes me smile. Flowers are perhaps most often associated with anniversaries or Valentine's or birthdays, but I think everyone should buy themselves flowers from time to time. It's lovely to get them from someone else, but buying flowers for yourself is like telling yourself "you are worth roses." And everyone should feel they deserve a big fat bunch of roses every now and then.

I bought myself this pink bunch last week and they are just starting to turn - but that's actually how I like them best. The petals look like puffy petticoats and as they start to drop they crinkle like paper.

Whether it's buying flowers or watching guilty pleasure TV or eating creme eggs, I am a great believer in doing the things that make you happy. Life is short so it might as well be filled with flowers.



Libby

Something's Gotta Give

I need to take a feather duster to this blog it has been so long. I would apologise, but in the wise words of the title of a film ‘Something’s Gotta Give’.

Things I have been doing:

- Filming and editing my final project: a film about unpaid internships in the fashion industry. One of the best things about my project has been the amazing people I have met along the way, from interns to the Deputy Editor of Elle magazine who I interviewed a couple of weeks ago.

A screenshot from my film - me at London Fashion Week

- Finishing at Intern Aware: I worked for 3 months with the campaign group Intern Aware, but have now finished to focus on the last slog of my degree. It was an amazing experience and I feel very proud of their recent press coverage (especially as I helped put together ‘the list’).

A screenshot from my film

-Talking on Radio Five Live about unpaid internships: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01rr7h1 (1.23 onwards. Only very short but pleased to have been able to speak on behalf on unpaid interns.)

- Reading: My most recent read was ‘Lean In’ by Sheryl Sandberg, a sort of ‘life and business guide’ by Facebook’s feminist COO. It has been met with mixed reviews, but having devoured the book cover to cover I personally don’t see how anyone who has actually read it could find it anything but inspiring. The general message is to go after your dreams (whether male or female) but it includes incredibly inciteful research into what can hold women back from reaching the top. I bought the book after watching Sheryl Sandberg’s TED talk ‘Why there aren’t more women leaders’ and found myself audibly shouting ‘YES’ and punching my hand in the air as I read it. Its philosophy is one that is close to my heart: I have a poster on my bedroom wall that reads ‘This house believes that the future belongs to female leaders.’

- Updating my website: It’s still a work in progress, but have a look: https://libbypage.wordpress.com/

- Trying to maintain some semblance of a social life: the weather may be back to dreary again but last weekend I enjoyed the sunshine at Regent’s Park – my favourite of London’s green spaces. I love looking up Primrose Hill and watching the people watching the view. It’s like turning around in the cinema and watching people’s faces as they watch the big screen.

All this means that I have less time than I would like to write, but I’m trying not to be too hard on myself. In the words of Sheryl Sandberg, I’m ‘leaning in’ as much as I can. But I think it's also good to know that if you lean too far and you might topple over. 

Libby

Diary of a Protestor: London Fashion Week

Pay Your Interns: London Fashion Week Protest

I have encountered many fashion dilemmas in my 20 years. Are sequin wellies a good idea (yes) how many novelty jumpers is too many novelty jumpers, and what do you wear in the snow when all you own are dresses and skirts? But on Friday I was faced with a fashion first:  how to accessorise a t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘PAY YOUR INTERNS’ that I would be wearing to London Fashion Week.

On Friday morning as fashionistas slipped on their stilettos for the start of fashion week, I pulled on my t-shirt and headed to the University of the Arts London’s Students Union. I was meeting up with the team there that had been working for days packing ‘PAY YOUR INTERNS’ tote bags with information for interns.

“I’d say it’s probably the first time that London Fashion Week goody bags have contained information about National Minimum Wage Legislation…” said Fairooz, Culture and Diversity Officer at SUARTS, as we grabbed armfuls of bags and ran for the bus to Somerset House.

As we stepped off the bus and approached the London Fashion Week flags flapping in the breeze, I began to feel incredibly conscious of the slogan printed across my chest. ‘Unpaid internships’ and ‘fashion’ are phrases that seem to roll off the tongue together in the same breath. Yet to question the system, and to raise the question right in the face of the industry like this at London Fashion Week… Well…

My ears rang with the clicking of heels and the silence of stares.

“This is a bit scary, isn’t it?” I said to Fairooz as we approached the entrance.

There was little time for fear though as we gathered with Intern Aware and the rest of the protestors and headed together through the stone archways. We assembled in the courtyard and watched as the faces turned.

Then a moment later: “are you giving out those bags?” and, “Pay your interns. Yes. I completely agree,” and we were off.

Throughout the morning we handed out tote bags and talked to hundreds of people about the campaign. Most people were overwhelmingly supportive. I felt a rush of excitement watching the bags disappear with people into the crowd, our message carried on their arms.

When I first came to London Fashion Week it was as an eager unpaid intern. It is safe to say I am somewhat jaded now, and that coming back this time felt very different.

Despite my initial fear on turning up at London Fashion Week dressed like I was, I am not really scared. As protestors we may have been outnumbered by bloggers, editors and buyers who were far more fashionable than us, but I know that the messages on our baggy white t-shirts were right. And I know that we were representing thousands of people who feel the same way, people who dream of working in industries like fashion but just don’t have the means to work for months at a time without a wage. People who are no less determined or talented than those who get the breaks, but who just can’t afford the price of a future in fashion.

There may be a way to go but I am hopeful that one day we won’t need to wear these t-shirts because interns will get a wage, not just because it’s the law, or because it makes long term business sense for companies to have the widest possible pool of talent to choose from, but because it is right.

Suddenly some stilettos and stares seem a lot less frightening when you realise you are right, and you are not alone.

Amazing Grace?

“I think there are a lot of interns that feel very entitled. 

They think we owe them something.”

Grace Coddington was my hero until she said those words at New York Fashion Week. Creative director of US Vogue, she is idolised by fashion students the world over and I was no exception. I admired her work and her attitude and I chiseled my way diligently through her brick of an autobiography.

Grace’s words echo the widespread notion that it is OK to mistreat someone because they are young and desperate for experience. Although internships can be great experiences, and mine have certainly given me an insight into the industry that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, they are exclusive and often exploitative.

I understand that the fashion industry is an extremely competitive one where experience is valuable, but I am tired of being told that to question the internship system is to feel entitled.

But maybe Grace is right, because I do feel certain entitlements.

I feel entitled to a day’s pay for a day’s work, just like everyone else.

I feel entitled to the same opportunities and access to the industry that editors like Grace had. One in five young people today have done an internship, compared to 2% of people who were my age 30 or 40 years ago. We are continually told that unpaid internships are a right of passage, but the reality is they are a relatively recent phenomenon, and not necessarily something experienced by those telling us to work for free.

I feel entitled to the same opportunities as people with wealthy parents who can financially support them for months at a time whilst they intern for free.

I feel entitled to fair access to experiences and to be judged on my abilities, not on my connections or my background.

I feel entitled to fair treatment, and I feel entitled to be known by my name, not just as ‘the intern’.

And why shouldn’t I be? Why shouldn’t interns be entitled to their basic rights?

As I read Grace Coddington’s words I felt like a phoney dressed as an elf had just told me that Father Christmas doesn’t exist. And then proceeded to slap me. Maybe it’s time to find a new hero and a new dream.

Or maybe I need to be the heroine of my own story. A better story.  

On Friday I will be raising awareness about the widespread use and mistreatment of unpaid interns in the fashion industry by demonstrating at London Fashion Week with SUARTS, NUS and Intern Aware. We will be representing interns and those who are shut out of opportunities because they cannot afford to work for free. Join us at 9:30am at Somerset House, or if you cannot be there in person, show your support online:

@LibbyLovePink @InternAware @SUARTS @nusuk #payinterns #devilpaysnada

Libby

Why I hate Valentine’s Day

From where I am sat on my bed I can count fourteen heart shaped objects and six mentions of the word ‘love’. And that’s not including my bed sheets, which are entirely covered in a ‘lovelovelovelovelove’ print with hearts for the ‘O’s.

It is probably safe to say I am something of a romantic. Moulin Rouge is my favourite film, Rob Ryan’s heart-achingly beautiful words make him my favourite artist, and frankly I think most things are improved if they have hearts on them. But for someone so soppy I teeter strangely close to the precipe of cynicism.

Every year when Valentine’s Day comes around I am struck by an overwhelming urge to head to my nearest Clinton Cards with a box of matches and some petrol. (Please note, I am not actually an arsonist. I am too scared of fire to light candles.) I don’t know if it’s just me but I think Clinton Cards shops always have the same weird carpet and weird smell of stale emotions. On the 14^th of February the ‘Me to You’ bears come out of hibernation armed with flowers and declarations of affection. ‘Love you forever,’ says an animal with stuffing for a heart.

I can’t bear it (gettit?). I can’t stand the cards with their pictures of puppies and ducklings and their pre-written messages. I can’t stand the heart shaped chocolate boxes and the candles and the Pizza Express vouchers that arrive in my inbox.

My dislike of Valentine’s Day started a long time ago, probably at a time when the only cards I received were from my dad. I have seen Valentine’s Day from the other side too though. I went on the first date with my first boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, and although I admit that the date of the month didn’t spoil it, it didn’t make it either. The date on the calendar was unimportant to the date itself.   

This Valentine’s Day I will be working, preparing for a protest I am planning at London Fashion Week on Friday. I will probably be stressed and quite probably grumpy as a result of being stressed. But that’s real life. If you want to love me you have to love me stressed and grumpy and driven, not cute and tied up with ribbon like an Andrex puppy. A Libby is for life, not just for Valentine’s Day. 

Romance isn’t something you can buy from Hallmark. It’s letting me sniff down the phone when I’m just feeling like it’s all a bit much, or ironing my clothes in the morning so they’re warm when I put them on – not because I ask or because it’s the 14^th of February, but just because.

To those of you who will be celebrating Valentine’s Day – enjoy. I feel the same way about Valentine’s Day as I do about New Year’s Eve: I hate the pressure and the prices, but I wish all the happiness to those who do choose to participate.

Just please, please don’t buy any of these…

Nothing says love like this

Or this...

Please, no puppies

Hmmm

 With lots of love (not because it's Valentine's Day but just because),

Libby

Inspiration Friday

I love Mondays. I really do. I wake up most Monday mornings feeling refreshed, my armour polished and ready for tackling the world.

Fridays should be about home time and celebration, but by the time it gets to Friday I tend to be feeling somewhat drained. Give me a pile of pillows and a pair of pyjamas rather than a pub and a pint.

Friday, I am in need of inspiration. With this in mind I have decided to try and dedicate some time on a Friday to blogging about something that has inspired me. Because why wait until Monday to feel ready to tackle the world?
My aim in life is to one day give a TED talk. The speakers always talk with such conviction and knowledge, and I always find them incredibly inspiring. None so inspiring as this talk with Sheryl Sandberg of Facebook.

If you are a woman, I urge you to watch it. If you are not a woman, you should definitely still watch it.

Some key quotes from Sheryl Sandberg:

"Women systematically underestimate their own abilities."

I know what that feels like. Anyone who knows me well will know I am not an arrogant person, yet I am plagued by the fear of being perceived as arrogant. Self-depreciation is a habit as pervasive as thumb-sucking among children. And I would argue that it is a largely female habit.

But I don't want to be someone who hides behind their thumb. I want to be someone who is not afraid to own their accomplishments and to speak proudly and confidently about them.

 "Women do not negotiate for themselves in the workforce. 57% of men negotiate their starting salary. Only 7% of women do."

I discussed this with a male friend who said that when it came to his starting salary, he thought of what salary he wanted then doubled it and asked for that. The company didn't bat an eyelid. 

"I want my daughter to not just be successful but to be liked for her accomplishments."

A big problem comes from women themselves. Women are often suspicious of successful women. In fact not even just suspicious - they can just not like them. I think we all have a responsibility to one another, a responsibility that starts at congratulating our friends on their achievements rather than being envious of their success.

Things that would never have happened to a man...

A friend of mine is starting out in the film industry. A senior male colleague recently asked her what her career aims were. When she told him he said that he thought she was naive. She told him all the places she had worked and gained glowing recommendations. "You've been around haven't you?" was his response. Never would have happened to a man.

Another friend has recently got a job at a television company. When she got the job there was only one condition, "just don't go and get pregnant." Somehow I can't imagine the boss saying "now don't go and get your girlfriend pregant."

Things like this happen every day. But it doesn't have to be like that if we don't stand for it.

Sheryl Sandberg: thank you, I feel empowered.

Libby

P.S and yes, you can wear pink and enjoy baking and still be a strong and independent young woman.

Life and Libby

What Libby Did

(The things I've been up to during my blogging absence)

1) Stirring up trouble, campaigning hard and reading my name in Private Eye.

Me in Private Eye, 11th January

 

2) Drinking many cups of coffee and eating many slices of cake. 

 

3) Walking along the Southbank in the cold on my way to meetings at Somerset House. 

 

 

4) Wearing running shoes with my dress in the snow. Sod fashion, I'd rather have ugly feet than a broken neck from wearing dolly shoes on sheet ice.

 

5) Admiring the view from my flat window. 

6) Filming interviews about unpaid internships...

7) And watching one of them broadcasted on Al Jazeera online  (and finding out that they reach 250 million people).

 

8) Writing short stories
9) Wearing two pairs of tights at once
10) Smiling

Libby

This is my first week working at Intern Aware

Why I joined Intern Aware

As soon as I decided that I wanted to be a journalist I realised two things. One: I would need to be in London. Two: I would need to work for free. I knew that internships would be essential for my CV, I knew these would mainly take place in London, and I knew I would probably not be paid for my time.

I began my internship story at 16. Using the money I had saved from my part-time job, I travelled to London and stayed with friends of friends whose homes I couch surfed between. I realise I was very fortunate – not everyone is so lucky and there is no way I could have afforded to stay in London otherwise or to pay the fare for the two hour commute from my hometown. At the weekends I got the train back to Dorset so I could keep up my Saturday job, heading back again on Sundays.

When I applied to university there was only one place for me: London. I saw the student loan that would come with studying there as my only way of affording to live there and to do more internships (because one apparently is not enough – I was being told that in order to stand out I would have to do more and more of these placements).

I am now in my final year of university. When I graduate I will need a full-time job, and it goes without saying that in order to pay my bills and afford to eat, it will have to be paid. Yet I am astounded by the amount of unpaid roles I see advertised in my industry, and by the assumption that if you really want to succeed, you should be prepared to work for free. It has been an eye opening experience. I have always worked hard, first at school, then on my internships and finally at university. I believed that hard work was the key to success, but I have come to see that in the current system wealth, in fact, is often the most important factor on your CV.

Some of my placements I would count as work experience, and for these I wouldn’t expect to be paid. Especially when I was 16 and just starting out, these placements were my way to observe what goes on behind the doors of a newspaper or magazine. But on a lot of my placements I was doing real work that contributed to a profit making company, work that a paid employee would have to do if the interns weren’t there. The more interns I speak to (because nearly all of my friends and peers have done unpaid internships), the more stories I hear of unpaid interns keeping industries running.

Internships have been my gateway into a world I would have had absolutely no access to otherwise. A country girl from Dorset doesn’t get to interview Rupert Everett and attend London Fashion Week by staying at home where the job opportunities are close to zero.

I decided to join Intern Aware’s campaign to try and give young people the experiences I have had regardless of their background, and in the hope that in the future hard-working graduates will not be asked to work for free. 

Libby 

http://www.internaware.org/2013/01/07/why-im-campaigning-for-fair-internships/