Julia Clancey

A day of Titanic proportions

2009-10-25T09:58:00.000-07:00

Living by the Marina has many advantages…one naturally being you get to know people with boats and you tend to be the one that gets invited when your friends have last minute trips out. I had a wonderful voyage out one Saturday, although I have to say, do not turn right out of the jetty as sewage pipes going out to sea...enough said.

I had another invitation the following day with one of my very good friends and his new boyfriend. I brought a bottle of wine and some chips...I had planned on some dip but my card was declined…oh the glamour… I cycled out to meet them and 2 adorable, affectionate little dogs. My friend's boyfriend did not drink so we sipped on our rose and headed out to sea.

My friend had good friends further down the coast in Malibu and we made arrangements to cruise down to them and then we would be picked up on kayaks, go to shore and have lunch with them. Marvelous…

We arrived in Malibu and I was the first one to head onto the kayak. I decided to leave my phone on the yacht just in case it got wet as there was some pretty big surf. I kayak in with my host and decide to swim ashore as the surf is pretty big and begin to strip down to my swimwear when this mother of a wave crashes down on us, capsizing the kayak and my clothes disappear with the surf… I manage to grab my top but waved goodbye to my lovely embroidered belt. I watched as my friend kayaked in and yes again the same thing happens, and then again his boyfriend with the 2 dogs also thrown off the kayak..fortunately they were on leads so they did not join my belt.

Soaked and beaten we were in need of some champagne and pink at that. The house and grounds were beautiful and right on the beach. We laid out consuming bubbles and then headed down to the kitchen to get served fresh pizza. Perfect. Now somehow between this moment and the next I cannot be sure what went wrong but it did.

Our captain so to speak headed out on the kayak with the 2 dogs, we were to follow but were still up eating pizza. We turned around to see the yacht heading towards shore..no time to kayak..we had to run down and swim clothed towards the boat before it crashed to shore. We managed to swim out and jump onto the back of the boat but it was now in the surf and waves were crashing into the boat flooding the lower deck. It was about a foot deep in water with more waves crashing in. The captain had lost his anchor.

It was at this moment I saw my blackberry submerged motionless which had been washed down from top deck. The death of a blackberry.

What is the point of paying insurance for a phone if it does not cover water insurance?!? I live by the ocean, things are going to get wet now and again. I mean nobody deliberately wants their phone to die and throw it in the sea. I was later told by the delightful people at Sprint that this was classed as willful damage. Another story for another time. Scoundrels.

The pair of us are admittedly rather tipsy at this stage trying to pump the water out only to be shouted at that we were using the wrong end. These were stressful times and to be honest, not something I had done before. The dogs looked traumatised and we decided to comfort them and wrapped ourselves in a huge, now soaking wet blanket.

My friend's boyfriend had passed the phone to him as he wanted him to speak to the coastguard…bad idea. Very bad idea… In a high drama voice, my friend was screeching to the coastguard, "Sharks dahlink! Sharks!!! They are everywhere!" There were no sharks. "Tell my mother I love her, tell my father I love him, tell my sister I love her, sharks , sharks, we are all going to die!!!!” I am singing Bonnie Tyler ‘We are sailing” falsetto in the background . There is a recording of this… Ab Fab eat your heart out...

The coastguard comes to meet us and I am now freezing, shaking with the dogs on the lower deck. We are escorted back and I am dropped off at my apartment where I keep the brown blanket on and head through security looking like Obi1kenobi. I head straight to the hot tub where I sit and thaw out for an hour before falling asleep in front of my fire.

A peaceful weekend out at sea…

The Playboy Mansion Experience…

2009-10-21T12:37:00.000-07:00

I had always said I would NEVER go as I had the fear of becoming impregnated by the very presence of the Grotto, not too mention other nasties and the thought of old balding overweight old men dribbling…just was not for me…

Yet here I was, accompanied by my lovely new friends Liz and Sylvie, who had come over to get frocked up and accessorised as a friend had organized tickets for a charity event there.

I had wanted to wear my rabbit mask but it was a bit bent and incredibly itchy on the eyes so I opted for the blue tit and fringe ensemble. It did a good job though I had problems maneuvering around the grounds in my stilettos…oh for a pair of Platforms... The bunny mask would have ended in a very un-glamorous stumble.

It was by pure miracle or misfortune we made it to the last shuttle as neither of us knew where we going and neither did lost Liz who we were supposed to be following. There seemed to be a gizillion women there in the tiniest dresses (me included) and a few chaps who were clearly short in one department but not the other, as the tickets were $1000 each for men.

I loved the good old school bunny girls, but the modern day bunny has lost all that wonderful saucy appeal. Who decided that Perspex platforms, thongs and body painting were sexy???

I knew trouble was in store for me when I could not decide what my first drink was, as I could not see the champagne…mmmm, errrr…scotch and coke please? Disaster...bad start...gets worse when all the girls then decide to have a tequila shot…yikes. A couple that I met in Cannes and had dressed for tonight then approached me with, "Champagne Julia???”

I should have ran in the direction of the returning shuttle buses but foolishly dived straight in and did several laps worth.

It was great to fun to bump into so many of my girlfriends there and the music was fantastic, so I cut some moves on the dance floor whilst I was still upwardly mobile.

The end of the night was in sight and we headed back to the returning shuttle bus only to end up on the wrong one along with everybody else. We were supposed to head to the UCLA stop, but this one headed into the heart of Hollywood. It was quite a hysterical end to a hysterical evening as the driver refused to speak to anyone or tell them where he was going. Delirious perspex-muled girls were screaming, “I am calling the police” convinced we had been hijacked as he would not let anyone off the bus…until destination "nobody wants to go there" had been reached.

Taxiiiiiiiiii!!!!!

The art of restraint...

2009-10-19T23:51:00.000-07:00

An unlikely title to ever be linked to my name however I did indeed manage this and have witnesses last night.

I had been invited by the lovely Jenna to an event represented by Denise Weaver launching the boutique ‘Curate Couture’ on 11973 San Vincente which stocks contemporary and vintage fancifuls from Marni, Chanel, Jimmy Choo, Prada etc.

We arrived fashionably late due to me only taking note of the street address and not the cross streets. The streets in L.A. go for days. Jenna having no navigation and me getting confused between Brentwood and Westwood...it happens.

I had dressed in tribute to Minnie Mouse doing French fashion week and in true Parisian style headed straight for a glass of champagne. I bumped into the lovely Nina and Lori from Smashbox who were providing goodies for the opening. I wandered in and found the most amazing selection of desirables and even went as far as trying the most beautiful cream coat on. It was perfect and at $440 a snip, I could have sold this in London with an extra 0 on the end. There was also a fantastic black velvet dress with pearls and diamante embroidery and a wonderful white sating frill...AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They took deposits…the torture….I mean what is a measly $85 ??? I have lost more in a taxi. The show must go on..the show must go on…Damn that fashion show budget. I could cut down on the balloons. Hmmm, let me think...cut some chairs out…er, hang on a minute...I have not even got the budget together for any of that yet…well then maybe take it out the rent...

Mother Theresa Julia took over and declared it would be wrong of me to friviously spend money on something I did not really need (I do, I do!!!) when people were volunteering their time for free, I took down the codes and prices and have now entered it my wish list of reward goodies.

In this very same evening I drank only one glass of champagne at the party, said no to a tequila shot at the bar, said no to the fancy restaurant after that, said no to Bardot’s 1 year anniversary and decided it was wise to settle for an early night as I had an early start the next day.

Somehow, between leaving the restaurant, walking to my escorts car (we are still interviewing) we managed to end up in a hotel room at The Roosevelt with a bottle of Belvedere and Patron watching synchronized swimmers and I manage to break some poor girl's camera with the mere flick of my wrist. How exactly did that happen? I was doing so well...I am getting frightfully good on 2 hours sleep…I feel the wall is heading or rather, hurtling towards me…

Have to dash…another soiree this evening with Mr. Blodwell for GenLux magazine.

Fish and chips, Malibu style

2009-10-17T15:26:00.000-07:00

Being a Northerner, it goes without saying I have had my fair sharing of fish and chips in the past, and yes, chip butties (or as they say in the U.S. of A., potato fries in a bread roll).

I have not fallen into the trap whilst living in L.A. for the desire to hang out in English pubs and do all that is supposed to remind one of all that great and British.

I am living here out of choice after all, and nothing substitutes the real thing.

However there are some traditions that cross cultures and a few drinks followed by fish and chips which seem to be appreciated by both sides of the pond, albeit with a slight twist.

Here goes…

London style…Sunday evening.

- A Bloody Mary at The Cow in Notting Hill followed by some red wine, some more red wine and then just a bit more to be sure.

- A walk to the taxi rank if no black cabs swing by which is unfortunately right next to the fish and chip shop.
- A few ‘gosh I am so funny’ bantering moments, only I am the only one talking and a ‘I will spit on your chips if you do not shut up” server. I shut up.
- Taxi home , couch , tv, bed. Done.

Mailbu style….Friday day.

- My friends (10 of us) turn up and we transfer onto bicycles whilst fitting the new arrival mini pooch into a basket and fit beers and bottles of rose into the others.

- Sit basking in the sunshine at the marina drinking our beers (yes illegal...shock, horror) waiting for our hosts to arrive.
- We board the yacht, open the rose and zip along, enjoying the open water dolphin watching.

- We take pictures of the lucky pup's first yacht experience...I know.

Now the original plan did not include the yacht, as were just going to Malibu Seafood where my good friends supply all the cutlery, plates, table cloths, condiments, wine glasses etc.. as they only have picnic tables facing out to the ocean. The fish is sold at a little shack and you wait for your number to be called, and VOILA...the most amazing fish. I go for the halibut.

The yacht was a last minute bonus, that does not tend to happen when you live in Kensal Green, London. A last minute bonus is a friend picking you up instead of the number 18 bus. I never drink and drive.

We have all now been drinking at quite a pace, and one of the gang has a limousine, so unbeknown to us, we had a limo waiting for us at the Marina to take us to get our fish and chips...only this being California, so we have fish and baked potatoes.

We all load into the stretch limo making numerous stops along the way collecting even more rose and bottles of champagne.

We arrive fully loaded in more ways than one at the fish shop, armed with far too much alcohol and take over one of the picnic sections. My apologies now to anyone sat near us.

Much munching, laughter and consuming with an impromptu soiree back at their Malibu pad facing right onto the ocean, yes, one of those places you see in Cribs or that fake reality TV show. You know the one, and yes, it really is fake.

The limousine drops me off home. I am so L.AAAAAAAAAAA….

Okay, secretly looking forward to a bag of chips when I get back home to York at Christmas.

The Neighbours

2009-10-14T12:07:00.000-07:00

Bless 'em…..

I have been extremely fortunate with my neighbours although there are some that would say the opposite about me, I am sure.

The security all know my apartment and can even identify people heading to my apartment before they even ask...such is my reputation. The police however have yet to identify me as I NEVER answer the door, and instead, my friends volunteer role playing. It is always more fun dealing with them when you know ultimately it is not your ass on the line with the noise violation. I am sure that is why I was offered the same size apartment but facing not onto the courtyard, but the marina at a discounted price. I remember with great disgust the time when my lovely and talented opera singer friend "Summer” gave an impromptu performance off my balcony, only for someone to slam their window shut! Do you know how much that private performance would cost you???

Now I only have to contend with the sea lions for noise as my sailing neighbours are rarely there. I have no neighbours above and the neighbours below have 2 dogs that bark all day while they are out at work so we are at evens. I have a core group of neighbours consisting of the cheeky Frenchman who, for over a year and a half, gave me an 80% discount on all international courier services, much wine and cheese, and has become good friend. He was horrified recently to learn I had been living on lentils all week, so now he phones me every few days to make sure I am eating and if I need anything. A very wonderful and dear neighbour indeed.

Then there is the kick ass aqua instructor who within seconds of meeting her will ask you to punch her stomach…do it before she punches you. This woman is like a rock and an inspiration to what you can achieve with discipline and exercise. I am equally committed to exercising as I am to partying, so give and take... When I broke my toes the week before the Oscars, we had daily sessions on the noodle working my "tush!” She has 2 beautiful daughters who are aspiring actresses. Ava was there for me when I trapped a nerve after sleeping over at a randy personal trainer's...I would only sleep on a tiny couch in fear of being pawed! She came armed with massage oil, some electronic neck massager, pain killers and gave me 30 min massage...a star! Thinking back I remember sending a text out to all my neighbours asking for painkillers and received a smorgasboard of pills and potions in return. I slept well that night. I also asked for chocolate but was not so lucky on that occasion.

There is my other neighbour who is away filming most of the time but made me smile and was the inspiration behind writing this up. I was working late and had the chocolate craving (these are a new and hopefully passing phase). I was about to pop out for a fix when realised I had forgotten to bank my check and my Abbey card was on the blink...choco not. I texted my friend and we rallied together. He had ice cream sandwiches and I had Hersheys chocolate sauce…fix accomplished. In the choco fix chat I explained my dilemma was down to one of the interns discovering my stash and clearing me out. I had told her to help herself to any water and tea etc. The sight of shiny wrappers hidden in the depths of my fridge drawer meant this naughty little mouse was drawn like a moth to the flame…and I was left choco-less. About 30 minutes after he left, he sent a text asking if I was awake and that there was a surprise at the door. It was like Father Christmas delivering the golden ticket...hanging off my door handle were 4 huge bars of the same chocolate that had been snitched. I am still smiling although feeling rather sick as I've already ate 2 bars today, but I did share with the girls...honest!

My final neighbour who lives next door is from Germany and my vodka fairy. She has been known to turn up with huge bottles of whisky and has no qualms of sending her flatmate out to restock our supplies when soiree night happens. I do not have a tv, out of choice, and will pop over for vodka and toast on the rare free evening. On one occasions, she invited me over as I did not know how to cook veggie burgers (patties) and was amused to see her trying to cook them in the toaster. It was on one of these such evenings that I discovered the foot cushion. I recall watching Billy Connolly many years ago in hysterics over the giant slipper they used to advertise in the newspapers and to watch him jumping around the stage. Now this, and I cannot help but be rather disgusted about the hygiene aspects. I would never wear the same pair of socks twice without washing. As I snapped away at this curious delight I could not help but think about what lurked within. A breeding ground of those little nasties that you see on adverts about carpet and beds or school children’s heads. They were swiftly removed...

I think it is important to know who your neighbours are. My neighbours in London are equally fantastic and I still go back now each year for Christmas dinner. It is all so easy to dismiss these relations as a thing of the past but if you make the effort, you will be will be pleasantly surprised unless they are tall, have a South African accent and try and follow you to the door. I pretend my headphones are on but they are not…you are odd…go away….

Russian around

2009-10-12T12:19:00.000-07:00

Waking up on Saturday morning I had the definite "the end of the world is nigh" energy. I personally put this down to too much work and not enough exercise to release my stress levels. I would not want to cross my path today…

Fortunately one of my wonderful zen meditation friends calls me and we arrange to meet for a catch up as tennis had just canceled too, so I was free after the morning interviews. I take my less than jolly energy off to meet him and after explaining the before mentioned we experience the following 3 incidents occur directly in front of where I sat within 5 minutes.

1. A man is jogging apparel turns around and hurls the most amazing amount of abuse to this young chap and his ‘you could not look more innocent’ girlfriend who were walking their teeny weeny dog.

The language is of a most colourful nature and brought about as the jogger was incensed that they were taking up so much room on the sidewalk. Maybe he would prefer single file in Santa Monica on a sunny Saturday afternoon? There is only one thing to say to him, "treadmill."

I was sure punches were about to fly as the jogger ran over and pushed his face towards the now bewildered and enraged chap.

2. They were interrupted as another man walked out of the café on his phone and barges by. At the same time another gets out of a taxi, walks towards the curb looking down and picks up a soaking wet iPhone.

It is a glorious sunshine and possibly the only puddle in L.A. that day. As he picks it up the other man on the phone looks over and says "Found it!" as he takes the phone out of the stranger's hand. The stranger with exceptional observational powers for spotting iPhones in puddles between parked cars gives him advice that I have heard for the second time that day, which is to put in a bag of rice.

3. They depart only for my next visitor to be one of those chaps that you know are trouble. They are the ones that always find me. I inherited this lucky charm off my mother and remember as a child thinking "I hope I don’t attract them when I grow up, but I do."

I recall a story to my friend when I lived in Sydney and was crossing the road at Taylor Square on Oxford Street. One of those chaps was in front of me running up to women and children, kicking them. I knew naturally I was next in line, so took refuge in the fruit shop. I asked the assistant if it was ok if I stayed for 10 minutes. I guess fate is fate...after 10 minutes when I finally walked out, unpeeling my banana and taking a bite, I should not have been surprised. He was waiting for me by the cabbages.

I ran down the street and he ran after me kicking me whenever he got the chance. I ran across 4 lanes of busy traffic only to run into a man dressed as giant banana or condom (to this day I am still not sure). He was a jolly chap regardless and I made some comment only to be set upon by 2 very large "we hate men, yet we will dress like them" women. I have many female gay friends but have never got to grips with the very angry ones.

My crime was being a **** tease ?!? I had just ran through 4 lanes of traffic whilst been chased, kicked and ran into an oncoming banana condom all the while teasing the male population. Ladies please…

Anyhow, my new friend just stands in front of me and stares. I channel positive thoughts and then he is off on his unmerry way. We wait now for a bolt of lining.

I cycle home and get ready for the Russian party. A friend has organised it in wonderful house up off Coldwater canyon and much fun is had by all and yes, much vodka. It is getting late so we decide it is time to…yes, go to another party.

My designated driver (still on interview) checks 3 road signs, as do I, when we parked as know they have are tinkers out here for parking tickets. We are all good. Much fun and dancing continue with my driver now being tucked up in blankets to have some sleep until he is within the limit and fresh enough to drive again. I am not driving so I continue…

It is now getting early so we decide to head back and I wake up my long suffering driver. As we walk outside we can see all the street is cordoned off and signs everywhere that the triathlon is passing by. You know that moment…you do not even have to look…the car is towed.

Now at 2am there were no signs, the car was actually towed at 2:17am. Our taxi driver says he saw them putting the signs up at 4am. The tow office tells us that they towed 80 cars off Olympic that very morning. Mmmm…eau de dirty rat parfum…

The car pound is supposedly deep downtown. Only to get there, find out it is not, and have to be taken somewhere else. The credit card will not process to take payment so we end up taking 3 different taxis to get to the car pound. The fine is $50, the tow release is $259 and the taxis come to around $80.

I am set waiting, feeling rather the worse for wear in the car trying to work out the heating, but only manage to get cold air. I thought if I put on full blast it will get hotter quicker. To take my mind off me freezing my derriere, I put U2 on full volume and listened to Sunday bloody Sunday…it was indeed.

When does an interview stop and dating begin…

2009-10-09T13:45:00.000-07:00

I seem to find my life somehow becoming revolved around by the comings and goings of Craigslist of late. I can honestly say it has pretty much been an amazing experience this time round.

In the past I have advertised for fashion interns and still go cold thinking of 2 girls who were clearly psychotic. Have you ever done an interview when you think that person is going to kill you? I have experienced the rambling of a chap who worked in a chicken shop who applied as pattern cutter and told me to "suck rocks" when the position was declined. There was also the abusive emails from some girl who said I was not a designer and that I was a joke (they have no record of my identity) followed by another message from this same girl saying she was sorry, that she did not mean it and could she have the job. Not to forget, the single mother who at the age of 19 had no qualifications but deserved a break. The list goes on...

Naturally everyone has a passion for fashion.

This time has been outstanding. I wanted to gather a team of people together to prepare for my online boutique launch next month which will coincide with a project I am not allowed to discuss as of yet, due to my N.D.A. I have absolute focus now and have many plans and have been stunned by the level of people that have committed to working with me. I have interviewed so far over 24 people and they have pretty much all gone very well…some more than others…

It was the day after the Playboy Mansion that a certain individual came for an interview as a prospective photographer. I have to admit I had a TERRIBLE hangover and was not really looking forward to it, but he seemed a very pleasant chap whilst conversing via email.

I had last nights "up do" and did as my nana would say looked like a "bad lass” (Yorkshire slang for young lady...ish). I answered the door to the most beautiful pair of green eyes and big grin…
I immediately for some reason felt embarrassed but could not help to be drawn in. The "interview” never really happened as such, but we sat and chatted for hours. This "interview" led us to the bar for 3 Bloody Marys’ and then onto a pool party on the roof of the beautiful Eastern Columbian Downtown, into its hot tub, to a club and then onto Tiny Pants and his boyfriend's house.

We resumed questioning the next night and the next...and then tonight and tomorrow.
Without doubt one of the longest interviews and confided in jest last night, he was unsure if he got the position.

I guess we are either dating or seriously stalking each other….

Long live Craigslist…….