Since seeing this video at Pop Life at the Tate Modern, I've been waiting patiently for it to pop up online. So good. Adding Kirsten Dunst to my girl crush list.

Audrey Tautou. Is there a woman on the planet more stunning? Easy elegance, French mystique, and skin I'd kill for. There's a certain radiance about her. Something that makes you want to stare for hours.

Love this photo. It reminds me of this Vettriano painting, Thinking of You, which inspired one of the chapters in my novel.


Beautiful.

I know everyone waxes lyrical about Hepburn in Givenchy, and Marilyn in her white dress, but to me, this dress that Deborah Kerr wears in An Affair To Remember is perfect. She's utterly stunning.

Earlier today, I spotted a link to a 'toddler fashion blogger'. Which is, of course, a huge publicity stunt. Racked National get a kid in, everyone thinks "awwww, isn't she cute?" and there's a bit of a buzz. Hardly inspired. But what irked me was this comment on the post:

Stop the madness! Enough with these children blogging about fashion: first teensy-pretentious Julia, then quirky-maven Tavi, and now a freaking toddler with make up? COME ON!

Can we please have bloggers and editorials by grown ups, real editors, with actual jobs, and, gasp, life experience. Maybe women and men? Over 20 years old? PLEASE?

Er, excuse me? It's the 'over 20 years old' line that gets me. This notion that the only thing that matters when it comes to experience is age. I'm not saying that that's not part of what's important. Of course it is. You learn from your experiences, and you improve when you've been doing something for years. You work your way up.

But it's not all about age.

Of course, a toddler blogging is ridiculous, but why the sudden backlash on young bloggers? Why is it so bad that young women (yes, young women, not kids) are suddenly writing? Tavi, to use one example, is a very talented writer. Way beyond her years when it comes to blogging, and her approach to both fashion and the industry itself. She's 13 years old and she's kicking ass. And not because she's so young. It's because she's good.

When Tavi is 20, she's going to have seven years experience behind her. Sure, it's a different experience to yours or mine, but it's experience. Why do people try to qualify everything by their own experiences? Surely it's much more open minded to just take people as they are and be impressed at what they've done. Not compare and judge it by what you've done. Either they're talented, and that talent is raw, or they've honed it in over the last few years, or even decades. Experience doesn't necessarily mean talent, just as raw talent sometimes doesn't mount up to hard experience. Both are admirable in my book.

My reason for this post is that bloggers are getting territorial. If someone has any kind of quick success, it's not good enough. They haven't earned it. They haven't paid their dues. I'm calling bullshit on that. Because unless you know someone personally, you have no idea of their experience. One of the most talented writers I know has only just started making a living from it. Does that make her any less talented than people who have been doing it for years? No. Sure, she has less experience in the industry but the two things are very different.

I went to University and worked hard writing about literature and reading Shakespeare. I only started seriously blogging three years ago. I was 24 then. And basically, fresh out of uni, I knew nothing. But I had balls, and that got me a long way. It sweet talked my way into a great job at British Airways. And those selling skills come in more handy in freelancing than people realise. Every day. My experience is different. But it's important to me.

You can't measure anyone else's experience. And you can really only have an opinion on their talent. Why pick an age out of the air and say that that's the age someone is qualified to write about your chosen field? I see it happening more frequently these days. Young bloggers don't get a look in. And they should. Because they're the people that we want to get involved in the industry, aren't they? Why do they have to prove themselves? If they're talented, and they're working hard, maybe that's something that should be put before experience.

We need to stop measuring people by our own experience. Because in doing so, we're missing out on so much talent.

Flickr image from lepiaf.geo's photostream.

Last weekend, four Domestic Sluts packed their bags, headed to the romantic kissing statue in Kings Cross early in the morning and made their way to Paris on the Eurostar. Here are some things that we saw and did and laughed about.


This gorgeous chandelier was in A la Mere de Famille, Paris' oldest confectioners.


Metro signs are prettier in Paris.


It's like a mansion birdcage! For posh birds!


We got to The Louvre at dusk, this is my favourite photo of the whole trip. It's all spooky.


The view from the bar hidden in The Louvre. The Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe are just out of shot. Best glass of wine I've ever had.


You didn't expect to see a standard Eiffel Tower shot, did you?

There's so much we didn't get to see, so much more to explore. So many more expensive shoe shops to play in when we have more pennies (and when the pound is doing better). I get the feeling our love affair with Paris has only just begun. We had a fabulous time. The girls are great travelling companions.

We probably walked around 16km, sometimes not going anywhere inparticular. Sometimes going in the wrong direction (well done, Jane). We opted to stay in our hotel having a champagne and bread and cheese picnic on Saturday evening. So much fun. Lazy exploring is a good way to describe our weekend. There was stuff to see, and we had a vague feeling of a plan, but if it didn't pan out, we wouldn't have cared.

Favourite bits? Jane's French, Alex gasping at the Eiffel Tower, steak frites, seeing The Louvre for the first time and being utterly speechless. Me trying to direct the girls in the train station and following the airplane symbol. Hehe! Everything.

Just four girls, exploring and eating too much cheese and bread. Fabulous.

Want to see more photos of Paris? Go on then. We won our tickets in a competition, but a special mention goes to We Are Social (again). Thank you!

Yep, that there is a tweet from Courtney Love. About Domestic Sluttery's (tres exciting) exclusive interview with Giséle Scanlon, writer of the Goddess Guide books. It's a good day today.

The busker singing this at Charing X station earlier made my day. Later on in the evening he scared Jane because he was also dressed as a clown.

I don't think I'll ever get sick of London. Knowing that makes me ridiculously happy.

In the last year, I've become more aware about just how much emphasis we put on the value of our belongings. Despite what some people think, Domestic Sluttery isn't about being frivolous. In fact, I believe it's the very opposite. Sure, we feature things that are seemingly of little consequence, things that don't matter to real life. But they do, because they make people happy. The women (and indeed men) who read Domestic Sluttery save to buy certain things because they love them. Everything we feature on the site is something that someone will cherish.

But there are some things that some people just don't get. I wrote a post earlier this year about really fabulous lingerie. Stuff that any woman would be thrilled to wear. Sure, some of it was expensive, but to me, it's worth it. Because sexy lingerie can make you feel like a different person. Hell, even matching underwear can do that. But a lot of women reading just didn't get it. They'd squeee over a £200 pair of shoes, but not a £200 lingerie set. Because it's not on show. Not everyone will see it. Why spend all that money on something that no one will see?

Which got me thinking. When does personal value, take over monetary value? When does something become priceless to you?

One of the most valuable things I own has only been seen by around three people. It's a gold Victorian brooch (circa 1830s if I'm not mistaken) and I snapped it up for a song on eBay. My reckoning is that it's worth a fair few hundred, maybe close on a grand (this might be slightly off the mark, but I trust my rather obsessive research into antique jewellery). I paid £32 for it. I would have paid three times that, had my maximum bid been reached (I was in a full-time job when I bought it four years ago). It's gorgeous. But it's too precious to put it with the rest of my jewellery, so I hide it away. Because it's not for anyone else. I bought it for me. Sometimes I get it out just to have a peek, but then it goes away again safely.

So why buy it? Because I wanted it. For me. And no one else. Partly because I've now got a rather beautiful heirloom, but also, because it's special. It's a really special piece of jewellery and well, I wanted it. Even if no one sees it.

When you look around someone's house, you can usually see what's special to them. It's the stuff on show. The artwork above my bed, the jewellery hanging from the birdcage. The collection of notebooks hidden away on the shelf. The dress I hang on my door rather than in my wardrobe. It's on display for a reason. Because I want you too see it. But then there's the other stuff that we hide away (does everyone else use a shoe box? Is that just me?) Sometimes the stuff the no one sees is the most priceless. The things that have no monetary value. but they mean something to us. Even if you couldn't (or wouldn't want to) explain why to anyone else. I have a snooker ball and some dried flowers in mine. The flowers are almost 15 years old. They're from the south of France. And the one and only time I've ever been given flowers by someone I was in love with. I treasure them as much as my antique jewellery.

Our material possessions are much more about personal expression then they are about buying things. I don't love 'stuff'. I love good design. Good design gives me butterflies. It gets me excited. That's why I buy stuff that I love. Because it expresses who I am. And yes, shoes are a great way to do that. So is vintage jewellery. To me, anyway.

We're judged on what we wear, and the things we buy. But I don't think that's always fair. Because you have no right to question someone's personal values. And that's what taste is a lot of the time. I don't mean value in a moral context, I mean the literal personal value that you would put on something. That tatty old bag you carry around with you might be worth nothing to anyone else, but to you, it's everything. It's memories, emotions, feelings and all of that is important. How do you put a price on that? Only you can.

My point is, something doesn't need to be seen by someone to be worth something. And sometimes you'll never understand the worth of something that belongs to someone else. Because it's not your worth. Personal value is just that. It's not for other people to judge.

Flickr image from banspy's photostream.