Small But Big; Brighton Lace.

6 April 2020 • ,

Hey, Brighton Lace beauties. Welcome to Small But Big! I’m so happy to be interviewing you for this little series that celebrates small businesses – you are one of my absolute favourites!

I love the simple description on your website; ‘feel-good, ethical lingerie for women, by women’. Where did the beautiful Brighton Lace start? And how are your products made?

I founded Brighton Lace in 2014 with the vision of creating beautiful, ethical lingerie that doesn’t cost the earth whilst at the same time empowering  women to enjoy their bodies - just as they are. It was really important to me to create a collection of simple, feminine lingerie that celebrates the natural beauty of a woman’s body without the padding, push ups or wires - nothing about those ‘extras’ is sexy to me. Today we are a small all-woman team (each one paid the living wage) designing and making our lingerie for other women. 
Photo taken from the Brighton Lace website.


I’ve been following you on social media for a while now. How big a role does Instagram play in the brand? 

I love Instagram, it gives independent brands like us an opportunity to make an impact and to grow organically in a way that just isn’t possible off-line. It’s a meaningful space to share and connect with our customers and fellow small independent brands and collaborators. I love the intimacy and playfulness of the platform - it’s not just where our community is, it’s also the place we get to ask questions and listen. So for instance when we can’t think of what to name a new lace, we ask our community for suggestions via our IG stories and we always have such incredible responses and ideas come in! 


Me, in the Blue Iris Racerback set.


When did you start selling at Flock, in Brighton North Laines? It’s a gorgeous little cave of wonders! 

 Yes, we’ve been honoured to be amongst the talented collective of Brighton designers at Flock ever since it opened its Brighton doors in 2015. 


Of course, it’s not just lacy underwear on your website. You also have cashmere sets! I saw one on the lovely Hannah Witton recently. When did they launch? 
Yes as well as making ethical lace lingerie we also launch other seasonal collections throughout the year including organic cotton underwear, linen crop tops (using locally dyed linen), and most recently upcycled cashmere underwear. We’ve been amazed to have been awarded Etsy’s “Bestseller” badge for our cashmere undies which we only started making last winter. The cashmere underwear are bespoke makes, so like Hannah Witton did, you write to us with your bralette and knicker size and then select your favourite cashmere colour and we make a special set just for you. 



What would you say has been your biggest achievement within the business? 
Ooh good question, most recently: 

  • Being featured in The Times Christmas Lingerie Guide
  • Our Community shoot last summer was a great personal achievement and something i’d always dreamed of doing. It was amazing to bring 13 women of different shapes, sizes and backgrounds together in a celebration of body confidence and community spirit and also to be the person doing the photos! I was really nervous that my photography skills weren’t up to the challenge but I proved myself wrong :-)
What are your hopes for the future? 

  • Becoming better known in the ethical lingerie industry
  • Growing our team to include more lovely women
  • Finding a beautiful studio space for us!
  • Eventually launching an eco swimwear range


What’s going on at the moment, with the brand? These are strange times, I hope it’s not being affected? 

Despite these being crazy times we’ve decided to keep going & continuing with our plans for April – we are launching our Spring Collection this Friday with 8 new undies sets and I’m very excited! The colours are gorgeous, really cheerful and bright. 


Thank you so much for chatting with me for this series, Lou. All the best wishes for 2020 and beyond! 

 Readers, please do check out Brighton Lace's Instagram and their website; they launched a new Spring collection over the weekend, and I for one am loving the cheery colours in these dark times!

 


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Me, myself and isolation.

1 April 2020 • , , ,

On Monday 23rd of March, I was one of the 1.5 million humans in the UK who got a text from the NHS, advising them that they are considered ‘at risk of severe illness’ if they were to contract COVID-19/Coronavirus (still not sure how to differentiate the two? Anyone?). The text went on to advise me (us) to stay inside for up to 12 weeks, isolate ourselves and keep a safe distance from any other humans. 

'Home is the safest place for you. Staying in helps you stay well and that will help the NHS too. You can open a window but not leave your home, and stay 3 steps away from others indoors...' 
Photo: Erin Veness

I received this first text around 1pm, while in the car with Mama, driving home from an important errand (which involved 1 kilo of crunchy peanut butter and 2 takeaway coffees), half-listening to the Jeremy Vine show on BBC Radio 2. After reading it through once, feeling confused and nervous, I heard Jeremy speaking to a doctor about the letters and texts the NHS were sending out ‘right at this moment’, advising ‘extra vulnerable people’ to stay home and not leave even for essential shopping, as other less risky humans were given the OK to do. That sent me into a tailspin; I had a good hard cry, and even said ‘it’s not fair’ – something I have only ever said three times before about my illnesses, because I have always thought it’s a useless thing to utter when you should be cracking on and getting through it, not wallowing in self pity (you can always do that later). The first time I said it was when I got the news I needed a second brain op, and ran off into a field to cry by myself. The second time was on a bench outside The Royal Marsden in Sutton, when a very insensitive consultant told me I needed radiotherapy, and then didn’t understand why this news made me wobble so much. The third time was when I was told I needed a second lot of surgery on my bowels – huh, seems like it’s always the second or third round of something, I never complain or indulge in sadness the first time. How funny. 

 That was the first time I heard from the NHS, with regards to the pandemic. I’ve since had a more texts from them, almost one per day, all of them informative and kind, and each one has brought me to tears. Varying levels of tears, mind you; the one about ordering medicines online? Just a little welling up. The one asking if I live with others, and advising me how best to steer clear of them in our mutual living spaces? A good wobble. The one about getting food delivered by a neighbour, and reminding me that any deliveries have to be set down on my doorstep for me to collect? Wails and sobs, staring into the fridge. And the latest one, telling me to call a friend or family member at least once a day and reminding me that I’m keeping others safe by isolating? FLOODS. 

I am so terrified of the coming weeks. Sure, I always love spending time on my own, but I’m quickly realising that I need other people around to bounce off and get vibrations from. I am, indeed, an extroverted introvert. Or whatever label you think my weird social needs would fit under. I LOVE chatting. I love walking, I love coffee/lunch/dinner dates, I love days out, I love nights out (not as much as days out, but still), I love being with people and I love being held and touched and being smiled at with full eye contact. I love feeling someone with me, even if we’re not speaking, just sitting side by side, watching a movie and maybe sharing some food (if they're lucky). 

And the overwhelming feelings I’ve had since getting that first text are frustration, and sadness, because it’s yet another instance in my life when I’ve been thrown a curve ball and had to stop everything I’m doing, the progress I’m making, because I’m too bloody sick to carry on. As I said on Twitter, I am usually so open and positive about my illnesses, but being classified as a ‘high risk’ in these current apocalyptic circumstances has reminded me that while I accept everything that’s happened to me, and wouldn’t change a thing because ultimately it’s all taught me so much and actually made me a better person… I am still limited in what I can do day to day, and the difficulties that come with these diagnoses can still sneak up behind me and pull me down when I’m not looking. 
Photo: Erin Veness

Since getting this bad news (last Monday), I have cried about six months' worth of tears in just a few days. It's only now (the following Tuesday, exactly a week since I began to isolate) that I have sort of turned a corner, and haven't wobbled too hard since the weekend. I think that's the human in me (wish I could 'bling bling' and solve things with the goddess in me, like Lizzo, but hey); we are really quite good at adjusting our expectations and everyday routines when something changes, even if it's as huge as this whole 'not being allowed to go outside' thing. Either that, or I've reached the acceptance phase of the process of grief I've being going through – but if that's the case, I think the depression stage lasted far longer than it was meant to. Anger came and went quickly; Denial was my initial suspicions that this would only last 4 weeks max, not 12, and Bargaining was basically me debating popping outside just to put my cardboard boxes in my road's recycling bin then sadly deciding against it. 


Now, real talk: I may have accepted the state of things now, and yes, I love being alone, but I'm secretly quite scared of being lonely. 
I am aware that I have a very sweet sig-oth (thanks, Schmidt) who I could have asked to stay with me – he even offered to, when I first told him about The Text – but I couldn’t do that, because silly as it sounds, he isn’t as limited as me and I don’t want to limit him. He is a very healthy human (who regularly brags about ‘never getting ill’, pffft okay, rub it in) and this means he’s a little more free than me in that he can go out once a day for exercise and to do essential shopping. I wouldn’t want to deprive him of that. If he came to stay here, he’d have to be very careful around me at all times just in case, and if he left the building, he couldn’t come back. Also, I feel like my flat is ever so slightly smaller than his. And his flat is his space, and this is mine. Y’know? So yeah, all good reasons, and I do feel like I made the right decision in asking him to stay at his until all this blows over. That said, I definitely regretted my stupidly sensible decision when he came to mine the other day to drop off some food on my doorstep. Why does he have to be so pretty!? 
Okay, that’s enough emotion. 

Photo: Erin Veness

I wrote at the very beginning of this year about the excitement of moving out on my own, into my little (rented) flat just a short walk from the seafront. I have had a funny few months getting to grips with it all, and have actually struggled to ‘bond’ with the space (who I have named ‘Dora’), because it’s still so new and not quite perfect yet; I have a lot of tweaks still to make, and stuff to move in/buy from my local second hand shops. It made a huge difference when, a month or so into my tenancy, I was able to get my smallest bookcase from my room at the parents’ in the living room of the flat, and set up my shelves with all the books I haven’t yet read (the ones I have read, loved, and want to keep are safely stored at the parents’! Don't worry). Getting some plants in has also really helped me feel like the space is mine (there will be a post about that, too!). Now, for the weird thing. Something very strange has come over me since moving in here… I suddenly love cleaning. I get so much pleasure from wiping down my kitchen tops, shining up my taps in the bathroom and even scrubbing the tiled walls in the shower. What’s happened to me!? I mean, I did diligently adhere to a cleaning rota when I lived with friends at uni (a cleaning rota that apparently allowed everyone else to swap jobs when they didn’t fancy bleaching the loo, but not me) but I didn’t get as much satisfaction from a good deep scrub back then as I do now. Maybe it’s because this is my space, a direct reflection of me and my mind, and it’s my responsibility to keep it fresh and fabulous. Yeah, it’s probably that. That said, I am very grateful that it’s only 3 small rooms I have to keep tidy and clean. 

But then, that’s an issue for me too. This beautiful flat is ONLY 3 ROOMS. Okay, let’s say 3.5, because I feel bad for the space I walk into at the end of a long day and the automatic light switches itself on, no doubt happy to be of use after I’ve been out and about for 10 hours or so. Well, auto light, your sensors are gonna be exhausted after all these weeks! You’ll soon wish I was back at work, too… wow, I’m talking to my automatic light and its sensors. Am I going mad already?

Yeah, 3.5 rooms. All on one floor. That’s very small. And only my living space and my bedroom have windows. My (gorgeous) bathroom is lit purely by artificial light, which I’ll admit does feel a bit weird some mornings – especially because my shower curtain is a trendy deep brown with swirly patterns, which makes me feel like I’m stepping into a little cave when I wash each morning. My living room makes up for that, though. Goodness me, it is FULL of light each morning, and pulling the curtains apart on my tall sash windows warms me up almost instantly. My bedroom is lovely too, and yesterday I made it feel even bigger by moving the bed so one side is against the wall… because nobody will be needing to get in the other side in the immediate future. *sniffs* 
Photo: Erin Veness

I guess one good thing about this sudden ordered isolation is that it will help me bond with Dora properly. She and I were getting closer anyway, as time went on. This will speed it up a bit – talk about a baptism of fire, eh? And I mean, if that’s how I’m looking at this whole ridiculous situation, I guess you could say this will help me hone my cooking skills a bit more, too. And meal planning! The other night I made pasta with tomato sauce and Co-op’s vegan meatballs, which I pan fried. YUMMY. I made sure I had enough for leftovers, and factored those into the meal plan for the coming week. 

 Okay, I feel like I'm rambling a bit too much about the most boring things, now. Time to sign off. Anyone else who is self isolating, or even isolating but with a house full of people you don't particularly want to spend time with (no shade), please reach out. I am online pretty much all the time, these days (except when I sneak out onto my neighbour's kitchen roof for a little quiet sunny time with my book). I'm here for messages, comments, TV/movie recs, writing commissions (plz plz plz) and yeah, anything else you wanna throw at me. Hope you enjoyed this insight into my life at this time, and that it wasn't too much of a bummer. More positive content to come, soon. Bye for now. *waves from window* 







Shout out to Charlie, for helping me nail the title for this post.

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46.

4 March 2020 •

Hi, I'm Grace.

Photo by Hattie Darling, for her project ‘Buzzed’!

 I've realised since moving out on my own that I can save money and live without a lot of home comforts, but I draw the line when it comes to quality peanut butter; the obscenely priced Whole Earth Crunchy is, unfortunately, my ride or die. Although I recently tried Pip & Nut maple crunchy peanut butter, when Emma made me some delightfully fluffy vegan pancakes recently, and it's a fierce contender for my top spot. Too sweet for sandwiches, though. That's where the former has the edge. 

 My first celebrity crushes were Will Smith, then Brendon Urie... and folks wonder why I have high standards. 

 I'm trying very hard to learn to write with music on in the background; I can handle background noise like they have on adorable websites like this, but for some reason music distracts me too much. And don't even get me started on podcasts... 

 I have started doing the #30daysnudechallenge that the Come Curious queens talked about in one of their latest F**ks Given podcasts, and have then followed through with (and then some) on their respective and joint Instagram accounts. Partly because I want to reconnect with my body a bit, as I feel I've been less positive about and appreciative of it in recent months, and partly because I hope it will inspire others to learn more about what they're made of and accept everything they see, from every angle. Here's my first (of a few, not too many) posts with that tag; I have a feeling Instagram aren't happy with it, though, as I'm not appearing on the hashtag explore page... hmm. Is it something I said, hon? 

 Living alone suits me very well, but I still worry about getting lonely. My electrician just turned up as I am writing this, 1 hour and 45 minutes after he said he'd be here. I was very reluctant offering him tea, which he then declined because he could only stay for 5 mins. Is this what being an adult is like? 

 I'm speaking at a local Rangers meeting tonight, about something I'm very passionate about: using social media and 'influencing' for good.

This is the first time I've written a Facts post like this. Usually it's just BAM. BAM. BAM. FACT. TRUTH. FACT. Here are some quick fire ones, to balance it out: I am perturbed by Crocs, I'm still trying to make a perfect tahini dressing, I'll always go for stretchy crop tops over 'sexy' wired plunge bras, 

I also used to start these posts with a 'hi, my name's Grace' and end them with 'I do one of these every month'. I've since realised the intro used to weirdly separate me from my name, so I changed that to 'I'm', and the last words put a silly amount of pressure on me to keep new fun facts coming every 4 weeks, which is just ridiculous really, so now I say something like 'I do one of these when I remember' OR I just leave it after the last fact, which is almost always a deep thought or hidden reality because I'm actually very complicated and emotional, y'know. 

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Feb-BROO-arry.

23 February 2020 • ,

February is a weird time. It’s weird even to say – I pronounce it ‘Feb-BROO-arry’, is that wrong? I know a lot of people who say ‘Feb-YOU-arry’. Anyone else find this ridiculously hard? Or are you 100% confident in your pronunciation of this funny little month’s name, and am I the only one who’s stupidly struggling? 


Photos by the lovely Hattie Darling; she’s currently working on an ongoing 
project taking photos of women with buzz cuts, called ‘Buzzed’!
So, here’s what’s been happening in February.

I’ve started yet another weird yearly challenge thingy (y’know, like the silly coffee measurements thing? Yeah. Btw I'm up to 85 this year so far), and it involves making Spotify playlists for each month of 2020. They’ll just be full of any and all songs/albums I hear and like, over the 29-31 days of each month. I’m hoping that looking back on them and re-listening at the end of the year will give me exactly the right kind of feeling(s) I had, when I was living in those days and weeks and months. Music is so powerful. I have genuine flashbacks, warm fuzzies and sometimes straight-up triggers when I listen to certain songs or artists; ‘So Close’ by Jon McLaughlin will always make me dissolve into tears, ‘Lovely Day’ fills me with bliss and refreshment, ‘Little Bitty Pretty One’ has me dancing on any and all coffee tables, waving my arms in the air… and ‘Survivor’ by Destiny’s Child will probably always make me act out an entire Zumba routine I learned when I was 18 and actually made time for exercise classes. I often feel like I need to mix up my music taste; for too long I’ve listened to almost exclusively pretty men with guitars and sooo many feelings, and of course a select few sassy queens who light a fire in my tummy. I want some in betweens, and being able to stream music has given me the opportunity to discover them. Well, I mean, paying for it each month spurs me to find new things because I’ve gotta make it worth the £4.99 (god bless you, student discount). 

So far, from my playlists, I can gather: January was moody, chilled, and not very sassy, while February so far is both subtle and vibrant. Goodness me, how wanky do I sound? Time to put my ironic monocle and decorative bunches of sage away…

What else is happening? Well, another one of my ‘main couples’ has split up, and this has caused me to question everything and doubt the fragile, fickle hearts of hetero men now more than ever before (and that’s saying something). That said, I am also filled with empathy and the most immense admiration for my closest queens who are powering through all the nonsense, recognising that it’s not their fault, and staying true to themselves. 

 I tweeted about my loss of faith in love and romance, etc. and asked folks to come forward with their best love stories to make me believe again. And gang, you delivered. WOW. 

Weirdly I am finding that in recent months, approximately half my friends are having their hearts broken… and then the rest are having babies suddenly. It’s two extremes, really. Best of luck to both of them. 



It was Hands’s birthday earlier this month, too. He casually mentioned recently that I’ve actually known him for 3 years of his life; when we met he was 27, shortly after our first date he turned 28, and now he’s 29. But then, he’s only known me at 25 and 26. Strange, eh? 

I like being with someone slightly older. For a long time some years ago, I seemed to only ever find myself with younger people. Maybe that was just where my mind was at the time, and what it felt it needed, but it never ended well and now I feel like I’m in a much better head space. 

Hands’s birthday was a stressful thing for me. He’d foolishly told me he wasn’t big into his birthday, and hadn’t done much to celebrate it in recent years. Now, you readers must know that I LOVE birthdays. I think I even love friends’ more than mine, actually. And as a Leo, that’s quite a bold claim. 

Well, the grand surprise adventure plan I’d made for us weeks before had fallen apart just two days before THE day, and I ended up half re-formulating, and half winging it. It worked out well – there was a cinema trip to see Bad Boys 3, a cute late lunch at an old school Italian place, and even an unplanned visit to a cat cafe thrown in – but all the worrying gave me a sizeable ulcer on my bottom lip (actually it started as a hormonal zit that gave me a fat lip, which I then bit so much it tore and formed an ulcer somewhere within the mashed up flesh, mmm) and I stumbled into bed with him that night saying ‘that was fun, but never again’. (He then told me not to expect the same level of effort for my birthday. Cheers, babe. Love you.)

Now for a horrible yet hot topic that’s really got to me, this month… Caroline Flack’s death was awful. The fact that she felt she had to take her own life is devastating. But what I’ve found just as bad, is the aftermath in the media. I’ve seen newspapers backtrack frantically when celebs they hounded and dragged before have passed away. The classic example would be Jade Goody, who the Daily Mail called ‘Britain’s brightest star’ after she cancer took her from the world (I legit remember reading those words in a headline, on the shelf at my local Tesco Express), but before her diagnosis went public they were repeatedly slagging her off for her ‘bad’ mothering, TV appearances and choices in romantic partners, for months. Now apparently some major press sources are deleting/archiving posts on their websites from just a few weeks ago, in which they trolled Caroline for her recent assault charges, and back even further, to when she dated Prince Harry and they loudly deemed her ‘unworthy’. These kinds of attacks in the tabloids, on TV, and of course on social media platforms, have had a hand in quite a few celebrity deaths, now. We can’t ignore the bad influence our national press is having on our mental health (and our relationships with our bodies, but that’s a whole other rant y’all) any more. After umm’ing and ahh’ing about it for a while, and being scared of backlash, I finally tweeted my little piece; I’m truly horrified that the people who help create these publications, whether that’s writing the odd nasty column, running meetings about what new gossip they can fabricate, or taking photos of famous folks unawares (often in their swimwear, ripe for the red rings of shame), are still going into work every day with all the awful things that are happening, and the people who are hurting and even dying, because of them.

There. That’s it. I’m done. 




I’ve been living alone for almost two months, now. And I’m finding that in my new place, I always have something to do. Laundry, washing up, plant care, fridge and cupboard replenishment… things I haven’t had to think about since I was at uni, and even then, I was living with friends so we’d help each other out or just pop to the shops together (well, we did in the beginning of our tenancy, anyway). It’s not just the doing, either. It’s the expenses. I have always been thrifty, I think, and since this move I have been trying to budget; I’ve made a spreadsheet, saved up my old jars for refilling stations, and got into the habit of dropping the odd bit of change into a jar next to my laundry basket… but it’s still hard. 

 I'm also finding more things are getting to me these days, on a deeper level. I'm told that's because I'm alone, and can't get away from my thoughts as easily; I don't have other people around to bounce off and share things with. 

Why am I talking so openly about my money stresses and minor personal crises, you may ask? I don’t really know. I think this is me going back to my old days of blogging; being completely honest, ‘writing out’ my feelings, and not really thinking about who could be reading. I like not seeing who reads each post, or who specifically lands on the blog every day. It’s better to see it just in numbers and bar charts in the ‘behind the scenes’ area of Blogger. I feel like it protects me, and makes it easier for me to continue sharing on here. 


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What I've Watched: sass, nerds and the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling.

10 February 2020 • , , , , ,

Couple of facts: it’s been a while since I posted about what I’ve been watching… and I’ve watched a lot of stuff recently. Ooofftt. This may take a few goes. Bear with, etc. 



'Aladdin'

…I don’t have to really summarise the plot of one of Disney’s most popular films, now, do I? Good.

Yep, I did it. I saw a live action remake of a Disney classic. Not just that, one of my favourite Disney classics. No, I’m not a huge Disney fan, but I know what I like – and I LOVE Aladdin. So obviously I went in with walls up, and expectations low.

It turned out to be pretty good. Will Smith was NOT Robin Williams, he was his own genie, his own character. That was my biggest anxiety about the film. That, and Jasmine’s sass. Well, she was plenty sassy, but I wasn’t keen on the lengths Disney went to basically shoving it in our face that this Jasmine was an independent woman who longs to be truly empowered and literally given the keys to the kingdom. The new song they gave her? Really OTT. 

My rating: I miss Robin Williams more than ever.


‘A threadbare magic-carpet ride to nowhere special, with Will Smith as a blue genie.’ – The New York Times.
'Booksmart'

The hype is real. Olivia Wilde's first go at directing was a triumph; the two lead gals rocked it, Phoebe’s Lisa Kudrow’s character was adorable, the actual plot and message of the whole thing was excellent, and each character was hilarious in their own way. My favourite was Gigi, the stoner princess who may have also been a genuine genius. Also I am such a Lizzo lover, hearing ‘Boys’ play over a party scene was very exciting for me.

My rating: stupidly (and cleverly) funny. 
'Booksmart review – fast, funny and feminist', The Guardian.

How long have I had Netflix? A good few years. How long have people been telling me to watch 'GLOW'? A good few years. How long have I been staring at it in my List, and wondering when would be a good time to start it? pfffttt. 

Honestly, I'm quite mad at myself for waiting so long. It's quite brilliant. All kinds of women - 'serious' actor types, wrestling fans, proud sluts... wolf indentifiers... this show's got 'em all. They all have their own stories, developments, quirks and complications to muddle through. My favourite? It's a tie between Sheila and Carmen. Okay fine, with a little Rhonda thrown in too, because I am half British after all. I also weirdly became affectionate towards pain-in-the-a** Ruth by the end. And I loved Debbie's arc, but then she also irked me a bit throughout. I also have a weird crush on Sam, but then, don't we all...? 


'GLOW Season 4: Netflix Renewed for Final Season & What To Expect’, What’s On Netflix.


Anyway, moving swiftly on. I well and truly noshed down on 'GLOW' for a couple of weeks, and was soon at the end of series 3 in a tearful daze, screeching at the screen because I hadn't done my research and known when exactly I would be 100% caught up...!? Arghh. Bring on series 4. 

 3 series, 10 episodes which vary in length but are generally 30-40 mins. 
My rating: gorgeous ladies indeed, beautiful and hilarious stories too.




So, that's what I've been watching lately. More to come soon. Are you liking these posts? Wanna gimme some feedback? Goodness me, I love feedback. I thirst for it. Tweet me or comment with anything you got. 

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