The Evil Twin

Gwyneth Paltrow

2012-02-02T19:18:00.000Z

I used to hate Gwyneth Paltrow. Well, “hate” is probably too strong a word but I did find her to be profoundly boring, plain, annoying and just generally insufferable, particularly when everyone loved her so much after Shakespeare in Love. For the record, that film was terrible, her performance crappy and her Oscar winning absolutely ludicrous (as most Oscar awards are).

And then, all of a sudden, I loved her.

Well, not exactly all of a sudden.

Sure, Gwyneth’s hit some pretty low points: naming her kid Apple, for instance, and starring in the most offensive and obnoxious film ever, Shallow Hal. I’m sure she was held at gun point throughout the entire, there can be no other plausible explanation.

But she’s also hit some highs.

Her role in Se7en, albeit secondary, was striking (and not only because she and her foetus end up chopped in a box) and I really liked her in both The Royal Tenenbaums and Two Lovers (the simple fact that she worked with James Gray and Joaquin Phoenix gives her serious brownie points).

Unlike other actors, which I used to like but don’t anymore because they’ve become these annoying nut-cases, adopting every child as far as the eye can see and craving ever more media-attention (yes, Brad, I’m talking to you!, although I blame Angelina, that bitch), Gwyn’s been increasingly wise, low-profile and sweet. She’s very discrete about her marriage with Chris Martin (mind you, I wouldn’t be shouting it off roof tops either if I were married to someone in Coldplay), her kids aren’t pranced around for publicity and her movie choices aren’t all bad.

Her blog, Goop, is another reason I started liking her more and more. It’s a beautiful blog, great posts with a lot of focus on restaurants and food which, of course, is a huge plus. Gwyenth’s surprisingly a pretty good cook and I even had her cookbook on my Amazon wishlist for a while (but then decided to be prejudiced and stick to believing that actresses can memorize lines, be pretty and little else, otherwise there’s really no justice on earth).

However, the turning point for me was her guest star role in Glee as the sassy, sexy sub-teacher Holly Holiday. She rocked that part, showed a true penchant for humour she should definitely explore more and, boy, can she sing.

I like her more and more with each interview I read and pics I see, like this one that blew my mind.

Shazaaaam!

This is what every 40-yr-old mom of two should look like.

Hot Pants

2012-01-27T19:02:00.000Z

Oh my Lord… There are no words worthy of describing how f***ing fabulous this chick looks. Those shorts… This really puts the “hot” into hot pant.

I don’t know whether to compliment or insult her.

Oh my Lord.

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My Favourite Acronyms

2012-01-25T22:33:00.003Z

YSL LBD

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 11

2012-01-24T19:03:00.000Z

Ide votar JÁ na menina mais bonita da blogosfera!

Ou melhor, no seu blog, o TBR.

Já!

Go, go, go!

Aqui.

Etta James (1938 - 2012)

2012-01-20T21:19:00.002Z

Funny Brits

2012-01-16T21:33:00.000Z

Charlie Brooker.

One of my favourite Brits. No, scratch that, one of my favourite persons. Ever. In the whole world.

L O V E H I M!

One of the most underrated comedians out there.

Jason Manford is genious.

And, of course, Ricky. Sadly, not as funny as last year.

Even if it's 13th, TGIF!

2012-01-13T22:19:00.001Z

How can you be superstitious about Friday 13th? Who cares about the 13... it's Friday, wohoo!

I haven't put up a fashion post in a while and I have pics piling up like crazy so I decided to share a few pieces I've been chasing after during these sales (although human sizes seem increasingly hard to find. Seriously, no offense, but I didn't even know there was such thing as a size 20...).

Sequins

I love sequins! They're undeniable feminine and give an immediate party feel.

I particularly loving the contrast of sequin pieces with dressed-down and over-sized attire.

This D&G dress, I've been hunting it down... I need this bad boy!

So seventies. So cool. So perfect. It's the sequin blazer.

Big Wooly Jumpers

I hadn't worn jumpers in forever. I only had about 3 of them from my uni days forgotten somewhere deep down in my closet. But this last season I'm jumper-holic. I've been buying them in bulk, particulary oversized, chunky knits and aran jumpers.

Retro Look

I've said this many times, only because it's true: fashion-wise, I belong in another era.

The 60s:

DSquared SS2012 is so swinging sixties, it probably comes with it's own Quincy Jones' Soul Bossa Nova soundtrack.

The 20s:

Gorgeous Gucci SS2012

The one and only Leah Michele. at the People's Choice Awards yesterday.

This girl can do no wrong.

Happy Weekend Everyone!

Pics from here, here, here, here, here and other feeds on my GReader I can't remember.

You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!

2012-01-12T20:44:00.000Z

“Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honour, I lose myself”

William Shakespeare

Source

I haven’t always been a bitch. I used to be Miss Nice Girl: warm-hearted, well-intentioned, good-spirited and obliging, always with a big, cheerful smile and kind words for everyone, no matter how despicable they may be. The female version of the Flanders kids, if you will.

And then one day I consciously decided to stop the farce and, as cliché as it sounds, just be me. I don’t recall what exactly triggered this decision but I can very vividly remember making it.

I’ve since been brutally frank, honest, candid and earnest, on all occasions, with everyone. This means I can say, with equal ease, “I love you, you’re the best person in the world” if I believe this to be true or “I don’t like you mainly because you’re overweight, ignorant and dress like a retired eastern European hooker” if I also believe this to be true of someone. And, yes, I’ve said both. Guess which comment was deemed “offensive”?

Thing is, when I’m nice, I’m really nice. Not to toot my own horn or anything but I really do my best to be a fun, supportive friend, a loving, loyal girlfriend, an honourable, grateful daughter and a devoted, generous aunt. I’m sure I fail on many occasions as a friend, girlfriend, daughter and aunt but, heck, I genuinely put my heart and soul in being the best I can.

But when I don’t like someone, I just don’t like them and I’m done pretending. I’ll be courteous and polite, in the strict minimum amounts required by society, but that’s it.

Let’s take my co-workers, for instance. I have a couple of friends at my current job that have exceeded the “colleague” status and are now my good friends with whom I hang out away from the office, exchange texts, meet up for drinks or a jog and brunch, etc. With these two friends I’m really nice, I bring them left over brownies I’ve baked the day before, go to the water-cooler to laugh and chat, help out with their work load… You get the picture.

And then there are all the remaining co-workers who I don’t like. Some are plain indifferent, I may not want to be friends with them but I’ll give them a warm “Hello” and might even ask about their weekend. But most of them, I really don’t like and even if I have to work with them day in day out, share an open space and spend (sadly) most of my waking hours during the week with these people, I won’t even make an effort to be nice. Screw that, I’m over pretending that I like people I really don’t.

The guy that sits at the desk behind me gets particularly on my nerves, for a number of reasons. First, he’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and, because of that, he’s a nervous wreck: constantly questioning everything he does, he’s insecure and inefficient and whenever he musters up the confidence to do something without double-checking with everyone else on the team, he usually f*cks up, so it’s a lose-lose situation, poor guy. You can almost hear the pee trickle down his pants, that’s how tense he gets. Second, he smokes. A lot. He’s constantly getting up from his desk and consequently bumping into my chair (I’ll be wearing a neck-brace soon, I’m sure) and then comes back with an expresso and contaminates the entire open space with his nauseating nicotine/caffeine breath. Third, he’s got a A3 size picture of his daughter on the desk that freaks me out: she’s got this creepy Mona Lisa stare that just follows you around and I feel like I’m being constantly watched, with this icy stare piercing through my back. Ergh. Fourth, he forwards “wacky” emails and sinister pseudo government conspiracy theories, which should be reason enough to get him shot. Fifth, he tries way too hard to befriend me and join in the “young gang” at the office by making lame music references: he once asked me if I’d seen the U2 musical and, honest to God, I didn’t staple his tongue to his forehead only because I was out of staples that day. I would’ve, though, he had it coming.

I know, you’re appalled. I’m a horrible, horrible person. This poor man hasn’t done anything wrong, he hasn’t offended me in any way; quite on the contrary, he’s only tried to be nice. So I should at least make an effort and not roll my eyes in contempt or sigh disdainfully every time he says or does anything. But I can’t help myself, it’s like I’ve taken this honesty pill, I’m Jim Carrey in Liar Liar. (I’ve never actually seen that film so I don’t know if not being able to lie ends up being a good or bad thing. I should download that someday.)

I realize my behaviour may be inappropriate at the office but, hey, at least my family, who raised me with moral values and praised honesty as a virtue, will accept me as this true-talking bitch, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, being frank doesn’t mix too well with susceptibility. Yeah, I know! Crazy, right?

Unlike my cold-shoulder treatment to office-douche, I’m not mean to my family, obviously, because I love them to death. They love me unconditionally as I do them and I have so much to be grateful for I wouldn’t know where to begin.

One of the great things my family gave me was a sense of humour. We’re a funny bunch at home and mocking one another is pretty much a hobby of ours. Very seldom will you be praised in my family. We’re not exactly the supportive type: we’d rather point out your short-comings, poke fun at them (it’s always funnier when it’s true, right?) and toast to your downfall. What a laugh! Sounds cruel but it’s actually rather healthy and helps grow a thick-skin, learn to stand up for yourself, be an expert at witty comebacks and, ultimately, actually take into account whatever the joke aimed and improve your flaws. But there’s always the odd family member that seems to have skipped the funny gene and will ruin Christmas dinner because you made a remark you thought hilarious but they found insensitive. And adding “Jeez, grow up, will you? It’s a joke!” doesn’t seem to do much good, particularly when it’s your 60-something aunt. I know what you’re thinking: I should be stoned in public for being such an insolent, rude, despicable shrew. Perhaps, but this is who I am: I’ll say what I think, I won’t filter my opinions because of others and most certainly won’t compromise my honesty.

Listen, it’s not like I walk around all day insulting people. I’m not a sociopath, I know when to keep my mouth shut and walk away when I’m not able to lie and telling the truth will end my life/career. But when neither life nor career is jeopardized, I’ll speak my mind and act accordingly, even more so when I care for this person and respect them.

I realize this attitude grants me a fair share of enemies. If I were to be killed and there were to be a CSI investigation (let Warrick do the autopsy, please!), I’m pretty sure there’d be a long list of suspects (although I’d bet on my douchey co-worker).

You’re taught honesty is a virtue but try talking the truth and all of a sudden you’re Satan incarnated. Jack Nicholson said it best: “You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!” (although I’m sure he was talking about Tom Cruise being gay, Scientology bullsh*t and Katie Holmes kidnapped into that sham marriage, although, chronologically, this is impossible. Still…).

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 10

2012-01-10T22:37:00.000Z

This is my 10th post on TBR. Couldn't be prouder :)

Congrats MJ!

Try Watching This Without Going "Awwww!"

2012-01-10T22:18:00.000Z

Back In Business

2012-01-10T22:12:00.001Z

Hi gang!

I've been under the radar the past couple of weeks but after the holiday season and a week off work (and the internet!), The Evil Twin is back in business and posting will resume as usual.

Wohoo!

Click here to see how happy we are to be back!

Feels good, right?

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The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 9

2012-01-03T21:28:00.002Z

Source

Último post de 2011 do Evil Twin no TBR!

New Year Resolutions

2012-01-03T20:04:00.000Z

Year after year, for the entirety of my adolescent and adult life, I set down a list of 10 New Year’s resolutions which, invariably, I’m unable to keep. I don’t know why I keep doing it but I feel I need that road map at the beginning of each year to establish my priorities and focus. Do I actually use the list as a road map? No, of course I don’t. The goddamn list’s been virtually unchanged for the past 20 years, give or take. Sure, there are a couple of items I’ve crossed off because, somehow, I’ve miraculously accomplished a thing or two (bought my flat, run regularly, got lasik eye surgery…) but most have been crossed off because I’ve realized I’ll never be able to keep those resolutions and they’ll just sit there forever. Also my goals have changed slightly since 1990 (hence, having crossed off “Own a pony”).

So, here are my 2012 resolutions.

1. Change Jobs.

It’s a New Year’s resolution classic, always lingering somewhere in my Top 3. Even though I’ve only been at my current job for under 2 years, I desperately need to change again. Desperately. Let’s just say I’m glad Portugal doesn’t have a second amendment otherwise they’d need to come up with a Portuguese translation for “going postal”.

I took my current placement upon the promise of many wonderful aspirations and guarantees which were severely unfulfilled: blame my company, blame my bosses, blame this cursed crisis, blame my naivety… I don’t care why it been such a disappointment, I just want to get the hell out of here, do something that challenges me, work with people I admire and, mostly, earn just enough so that HR won’t laugh in my face when they sign my pay-check.

2. Run A Marathon.

I was soooooooo close to crossing this off the list this year but a health mishap this summer forced me to stop training. I still ran the marathon with a relay team (9k) but this isn’t getting crossed off until I’ve done the whole 42k.

3. Pick Up Tennis Or Yoga Again.

I love tennis, it’s probably my favourite sport, but had to quit when my previous job sucked the life out of me and my 20-hour work days didn’t leave much free time: I kept renting courts and not being able to show up so I just quit. I’ve got more free time now, just need to stop being a lazy slob. Alternatively, I’ve also been wanting to do yoga for ages, so now seems as good a time as ever.

4. Get Out Of Debt.

With my mortgage, it will be decades before I cross this sucker off but if I can at least cut back the day-to-day expenses and get my balance sheet out of the red (damn you, overdraft!), it’s a start.

5. Go To Bed Earlier.

This is new entry. I used to be better discipline with bedtime but it’s been getting worse and I’m so sleep deprived I need a 500-hour power nap.

6. Get A Better Attitude And Be More Appreciative.

I seriously need to be more positive, stop worrying about things I can't change and start focusing on the things I can.

I bitch and complain too much. I’m never content or satisfied and always want more and better. I’m not even talking materialistically, quite on the contrary: I just believe that there is always room for improvement in our lives and the way we live them (hence this recurring New Year’s resolutions’ list). I’m frustrated with my life and how very different it turned out to be, so below expectations. Still, it may not be the life I’ve dreamt of but it’s a darn good one, with a whole lot of health, love (the two single most important things in life), amazing family, friends, experiences and the world’s best BF.

Also, I might want to turn down my brutal honesty a notch or two. It’s all great when people say they love sincerity but when I’m bluntly frank – which is pretty much all the time – all those honesty lovers suddenly get real defensive and thin-skinned. The trouble I’ve been in and the opportunities that have passed me by because I couldn’t suck up or play nice with someone I can’t stand…. Change needed, for sure.

7. Recover My LP Record Player.

My parents’ old LP record player’s been sitting in the house waiting to be fixed for so long, it’s embarrassing. Plus I have a pretty decent vinyl collection (also my parents’, a very cool collection from their cool hey-day), it’s a crime leaving them to lie around.

8. Learn How To Dance Lindy Hop.

This, again, I was meant to cross off this year – I registered with a class and all – but turns out you had to go with a partner and it would be easier to convince my boyfriend to donate his eyeballs than taking up dancing lessons, so…. Still on the list.

9. Improve My Writing.

The dream of doing something professionally with writing, publishing or journalism has inevitably died: my life just went in a different direction and it’s too late to switch gears now. However, even if I won’t win a Pulitzer or a Booker and won’t ever be published in Vanity Fair or The New Yorker, I still want to pick up my abandoned short stories, get my portfolio together and then take it from there. Who knows?

10. Stop Bailing Church on Sunday.

I’m afraid I’m going to sound like a Jesus-freak if I develop this any further so let’s just keep it at this.

What are your New Year’s Resolutions?

Pics from here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here!

Happy New Year!

2012-01-03T19:41:00.000Z

Hello dearests!

I've been on a short blogging-hiatus but I'm back to business and posting will resume as normal.

Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and managed to spend time with your loved ones and get some rest, so as to start off the New Year with a bang!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-23T20:19:00.000Z

Basically, you're less of a slag if you're rich.

Great Xmas message, Harvey Nic. Thanks a bunch.

I particularly enjoy the girl at the bus stop stuffing her face.

But I have to admit the gold plissé dress is quite cute!

Hope you all have a wonderful holiday with your family and loved ones.

A very happy Christmas to you all!

It's About That Time!

2011-12-22T20:13:00.000Z

As always, cataloguing 2011’s best albums was no easy task, particularly because I haven’t listened to most of the essential records that have been receiving rave reviews (St. Vincent‘s Strange Mercy, Bombay Bicycle Club's A Different Kind Of Fix, Fleet Foxes' Helplessness Blues, Florence & The Machine’s Ceremonials, Noah and the Whale’s Last Night on Earth… the “unlistened list” goes on and on).

Still, keeping up with traditions, here are my Top 20 Albums of 2011, in no particular order.

(Quick note: I have to thank my BF for giving me most of these records. He’s pretty much my music dealer and deserves due recognition, as he’s provided for most of my 2011 soundtrack. Thank you! Love you!)

1. PJ Harvey, Let England Shake

As most girls my age, I grew up adoring PJ Harvey: she was – and still is – the coolest thing ever. Edgy and oddly beautiful, she’s truly groundbreaking and genuine. She doesn’t write or sound like anyone but herself.

I was deeply intrigued by To Bring You My Love, my first PJ Harvey album, and found it difficult yet brilliant. Is This Desire was for a long time my favourite and I remember the thrill of buying the same t-shirt Polly Jean’s wearing on the album’s cover: I wore that top so many times the picture of the lips eventually washed out. Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea was pretty much the confirmation that this woman was nothing short of a genius (that duet with Thom Yorke? Heavenly!) and White Chalk, although under-appreciated, was the perfect set-up for what most critics have considered the best album of 2011: Let England Shake.

Summing up PJ Harvey’s 8th album as a cross between an homage to her homeland (with oh-so-British songtitles such as The Last Living Rose, England and The Glorious Land) and a war-record may seem odd and nonsensical but that’s pretty much what Let England Shake is: a concept album with references to all sorts of battles (from Anzac’s siege of Gallipoli in the Ottoman Empire to World War I, without forgetting Iraq). The songs are vivid portraits of struggle and conflict, with a strong political and historical undertone which made Polly Jean worthy of sharing the floor with David Cameron on Andrew Marr’s political talk show.

An album like you’ve never heard. And that’s why you’ll love it.

2. Feist, Metals

I love Leslie Feist, I really do: I’ve been a loyal fan since her early Broken Social Scene days and her Monarch debut, so you can imagine how much I was looking forward to hearing Metals.

Recorded in California's Big Sur with minimal post-production, Metals has a genuine, gritty almost acoustic feel to it, filled with rattles and thumps, breaths and handclaps. It’s raw, in a beautiful way.

Although I won’t say I was disappointed with Metals, Feist’s prior record The Reminder seems impossible to top and, admittedly, I had impossibly high expectations which weren’t, unfortunately, met.

3. Metronomy, The English Riviera

I mentioned these British beaus a few weeks ago and already hinted to their high ranking in this year’s Best Albums list.

A cross between an anthem to the British Summer (the record opens to the sound of cawing seagulls) and a soundtrack to a John Hughes film, The English Riviera is an incredibly clever album, with witty lyrics, sweet synths, sexy basslines and, overall, just really good vibes.

4. Alex Turner, Submarine EP

My favourite Artic Monkey songs are the folky, soppy love ballads, so when Alex Turner made a record solely composed of these sweet tunes, I was over the moon. Listening to this on a rainy Sunday, curled on the couch under a merino wool blanket, flipping through a book: pure bliss. And, as mentioned here before, the movie ain’t bad either.

5. James Blake, James Blake

Not since Burial’s Untrue back in 2007 have I been this keen on dubstep. James Blake is one talented boy who can write and compose eerily beautiful songs, set an out-of-this-world atmosphere and deliver stunning vocals. Although it has this ghostly, chilling undertone, Blake’s homonymous debut is warm and soothing. Plus, he shot to fame covering a Feist song so that alone deserves some serious brownie points!

6. Bon Iver, Bon Iver

I adore Justin Vernon. I mean, he could take a dump in MP3 format and I'd probably still buy, listen and love it. But, just as with Feist’s Metals, expectations were sky high for Bon Iver’s homonymous record and, when compared to For Emma, Forever Ago, possibly the most perfect album ever made when Justin disappeared into the snowy woods to nurse a broken heart, Bon Iver falls a bit short.
Still, the record stays true to Vernon’s soulful lyrics, gloomy melodies and eerie arrangements. As soothing as honey tea and a sweet ointment, the album unfolds as a sort of dreamlike journey (each song title is a place, real or imagined) on winding roads over snowing forests and shiny lakes. National Geographic gone hipster, if you will.

7. White Denim, D

I shamefully only discovered this Austin-quartet earlier this year but this record was such a pleasant surprise I had to include it in my best of 2011.

Somewhere between country and folk, with a touch of tropicalia and high-pitches, D was a real cheer-upper and overall really fun record.

8. The Strokes, Angles

After a not-so-great solo album, Julian Casablanca has thankfully joined the rest of the gang and created a fun, catchy album that reminds me so much of this summer I can almost smell sunscreen when I listen to Under Cover of Darkness. Although Angles lacks the hard-core head-banging rock songs that characterize the early Stroke, I think the pop influence is, paradoxically, what makes this record so special.

9. Lykke Li, Wounded Rhymes

This sombre Swede has hit a home run with her sophomore record Wounded Rhymes, charged with heart-broken and –breaking lyrics and melancholic melodies that make you want to sway your arms around and drop your body whilst you mumble the song with your eyes closed. Or maybe that’s just me…

10. Jamie Woon, Mirrorwriting

Jamie Woon’s haunting rendition of the old American spiritual Wayfaring Stranger, remixed by the one and only king of dubstep Burial, really sets the tone for this dark, earthy debut album. The hit single Night Air samples wicker chairs and Cornish pebbles: it doesn’t get much more organic than this.

11. Foster The People, Torches

Poor reviews let this L.A. trio fall under the radar but I have to admit really enjoy this album. It’s a no-brainer, straight up catchy pop. It was the perfect summer soundtrack with its clappy rhythms and sing-along lyrics: it may not be as nerdy or obscure as Tom Waits, at least it won’t make you want to pull a shotgun to your temple. Dance away your blues, my children!, and surrender to easy, breezy commercial pop: it will do you good!

12. Beyoncé, 4

Quite a surprising follow up to I Am… Sasha Fierce, 4 is a much calmer record, heavy on R&B and ballads. Although I don’t like most of Beyoncé’s pre-baby album, the few songs I do like, I really, really like – the irresistible dancehall anthem Countdown, the über-soppy ballad 1+1 and the incredible Love on Top – make 4 worthy of a high spot in our best of 2011.

13. Arctic Monkeys, Suck It and See

I think many die-hard Arctic Monkeys were disappointed with this album which abandoned their rocker darkness for wistful pop. Although Brick by Brick and other singles off Suck It And See are undeniably rock, this album values melodies over riffs and Alex Turner's clever wordplay and brilliant lyrics.

14. Wolf Gang, Suego Faults

LSE drop out Max McElligott has been dubbed both the new Byrne and Bowie. He’s great, no doubt, but I wouldn’t set the stakes that high… yet. But Suego Faults is a brilliant debut record. MGMT-producer Dave Fridmann’s touch is undeniable: catchy melodies, dancing tunes and strong choruses, it’s all there.

15. Other Lives, Tamer Animals

Described as a cross between Fleet Foxes and Radiohead, this Oklahoma quintet is one of my favourite discoveries this year: dreamy melodies, majestic orchestration, ethereal harmonies and haunting, sighing falsettos, their songs are epic without being over the top. It’s simply a beautiful record.

16. Cults, Cults

There’s a whole bunch of Phil Spector-inspired boy/girl duos this year: Jenny and Johnny, She & Him, below mentioned Summer Camp… and Cults. This adorable NYU couple, Madeline Follin and Brian Oblivion, hit it big with their sensation Go Outside: it’s a great introduction to their homonymous debut, loaded with sweet, catchy tunes that transport you to an innocent 1960s prom-night. What’s not to love?

17. Summer Camp, Welcome To Condale

I guess if Instagram were a song, it would definitely sound like this London duo. Inexhaustibly compared to above mention Cults, Elizabeth Sankey and Jeremy Warmsley’s debut can also be described as retro pop, heavy on nostalgic synths and catchy lyrics. Their homage to the eighties goes as far as sampling Kelly LeBrock in John Hughes' Weird Science.

18. The Tree Of Life, OST

This is cheating a bit because the actual soundtrack of The Tree of Life only has Alexandre Desplat’s score which is shot-yourself-in-between-the-eyes boring. The tracks and songs, however, borrowed for The Tree of Life are a selection of the most beautiful masterpieces ever composed. Far from being a connoisseur, I do have a nerdy obsession with opera and French classical composers (I blame ballet) so The Tree of Life was all the more a treat.

19. Washed Out, Within and Without

Ernest Greene picked his band’s name very wisely, as it accurately describes its sun-bleached, hazy and nostalgic sounds.

With a distinctive, repetitive keyboard-based tunes – much like Memory Tapes, Neon Indian or Toro Y Moi – Within and Without is sort of really good background music: it won’t exactly stop you in your motions but you’ll find yourself happily swaying to the soft, soporific, summery synths. Not everyone’s cup of tea, I’ll agree, but I certainly enjoyed it enough for the 2011 honour role.

20. Adele, 21

This album has been so over-hyped, I feel like punching a baby at the first notes of Someone Like You, that’s how much it gets so much on my nerves.

Still, rationally, I have to admit it is a pretty damn good album, with clever lyrics, beautiful arrangements and, most of all, incredible vocals. Just go hide somewhere for a long while, Adele, so we can miss and appreciate you.

Which were your picks?

Watcha Readin'? Part 3 - Holiday Edition

2011-12-21T14:21:00.001Z

Because Christmas’ just around the corner, it’s going to be a festive Watcha Readin’, so deck the blogs with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, 'tis the season to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-la!

How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, Dr. Seuss

Along with nappies, dummies and Gaviscon, I believe no child should be without Dr. Seuss’ complete works and parents should worry more about buying Green Eggs and Ham rather than the latest edition of Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care.

American author Dr. Seuss revolutionized children’s literature in the 1950s and opened the gateway to fun and easy yet instructive children’s books. He understood that there is so much more to young literature than just easy vocabulary and basic plots: these books need to be fun! When you’re a kid, everything you do needs to be fun, otherwise you won’t do, simple as that. That’s just how their tiny, manipulative brains work. Tell a child to clean up his toys because he has to, he’ll pick up one when you’re in the room but the second you turn your back, they’ll just sod off and go do something incredibly dangerous. But if you tell them it’s a secret game, the little guy will have the room spick and span in under two minutes. It’s the same with reading: Anne of Green Gables is lovely and all but you’ll need a bit more than the misadventures of a red-headed orphan to get kids reading from a young age.

In this aspect, Dr. Seuss was nothing short of a genius. With a combination of simple vocabulary, imaginative drawings, witty plots, quirky rhymes and easy-to-remember metrics, his books were enjoyed equally by first-time reader as by older children who could already read on their own.

I’ve given both my one-year-old and three-year-old nephews a couple of Dr. Seuss’ classics and I tend to subtly sway them to pick these over their other bedtimes stories simply because they are such a joy to read, no matter how old you are.

A Dartmouth graduate and Oxford drop out, Theodor Seuss Geisel worked as an illustrator for advertising campaigns, a political cartoonist for a NYC newspaper and, during World War II, he worked in an animation department of the U.S Army (don’t you just love how massive the US Army is that they actually have an animation department?). It wasn’t until 1937 that Dr. Seuss published his first children’s book, And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street and up to his death in 1991, he published over 40 books, including Horton Hatches the Egg in 1940, The Cat In the Hat in 1957, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish and Green Eggs and Ham, my personal favourite, both in 1960.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas! which, sadly, most children will associate to Ron Howard’s film starring Jim Carrey, was first published in 1957 and is arguably the sweetest, wittiest books about Christmas, with an obvious (yet often forgotten) moral which children and adults alike need very much to be reminded about this time of year.

The Grinch, a bitter, ugly, green creature, with shoes too tight and a heart two sizes too small, is a recluse who lives in a cave with Max, his faithful dog, on a snowy mountain top overlooking the merry town of Whoville, home to the adorable and warm-hearted Whos.

Whilst Whoville cheerfully and, to Grinch’s annoyance, noisily carry out the Christmas festivities, miserable, mean old Grinch, unable to understand the Whos' happiness, makes plans to descend on the town and, dressed up as Santa, steal all their presents and decorations, thus depriving the quaint village of any Christmas fun. Although the raid is a success, the Whos celebrate Christmas all the same, even with no gifts or decorations.

Grinch then realizes that Christmas is more than just gifts and presents: ““Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!””. Touched by this, his heart grows three sizes larger: he returns all the presents and decorations and is warmly welcomed into the community of the Whos.

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

Although a Classic on its own, How the Grinch Stole Christmas! was clearly influenced by the ultimate Christmas class and must-read at this time of year: Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

First published in December 1843, A Christmas Carol tells the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, a sour, stingy, selfish man who, on Christmas Eve, is haunted by the supernatural visits of his dead business partner Jacob Marley and the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come,

Marley's ghost warns Scrooge that, in order to avoid a miserable afterlife like Marley’s suffering, he needs to change his ways and let kindness and compassion in his cold, pinched heart.

Then the Ghost of Christmas Past takes Scrooge to the nostalgic and moving scenes of his boyhood, reminding him of a time when he was innocent and uncorrupted by greed and egoism.

The second spirit, the Ghost of Christmas Present, awakens Scrooge’s sense of responsibility and solidarity by taking him to several festive settings, including a joyous market of people buying food for Christmas dinner and the happy family feast of Scrooge's poor, under-paid employee, Bob Cratchit.

Finally, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come haunts Scrooge with dire visions of his future – namely his neglected and untended grave – if Scrooge doesn’t learn and act upon what he has witnessed during that Christmas Eve.

Scrooge wakes up on Christmas morning with joy and love in his heart: he spends Christmas day with his nephew's family, after anonymously sending a prize turkey to the Cratchit family for Christmas dinner.

Transformed overnight, the kind, generous and compassionate Scrooge embodies the spirit of Christmas.

Celebrated as a great influence in rejuvenating old English Christmas traditions, despite being a story of hope, kindness and joy, A Christmas Carol is much more than a Christmas tale but, as all Dickens’ work, it’s an incredible account of the darkness and despair which characterized mid-19th century England.

I like re-reading A Christmas Carol at this time of year, to focus on what really matters. It’s outrageously cliché, I realize that, but the moral of both Dickens and Dr. Seuss’ stories need very much be reminded to everyone of us.

I’m not a fan of Christmas: I hate shopping at this time of year (I do all my X-Mas shopping online and months ahead of time); I hate the cold, dark days of December; I hate the forced joy we all insist on faking through office Christmas parties (is there anything worse?) and afternoon-long TV specials when even the worse of the money-grabbing, covetous pigs take time for a 158th cover of “Do They Know It’s Christmas Time At All?”. I hate what Christmas has become.

I’m aware this is a monstrous commonplace but Christmas is so far from Christianity, it’s frightful: Coca-Cola’s Santa Claus, the German Christmas tree, the turkey and, of course, the outrageous and furious shopping sprees, endless adverts on television, catalogues through the mail and in-your-face all-out decorations in shops… What on earth does any of this have to do with the birth of Jesus Christ? And, no disrespect to Jesus’ birthday, we all love our slice of cake and party hat when it’s our b-day, sipping Bacardi and what not, but Christmas isn’t even the most important religious holiday. It’s Easter, in case you’re wondering, along with the Assumption of Our Lady on August 15th, so let’s not even pretend all this fuss is because of our religious beliefs.

It’s commercial, pure and simple.

So, step aside from the cacophony of money-grabbing machine which society becomes this time of year, pick up A Christmas Carol or How The Grinch Stole Christmas and you’ll see, it’s just what the doctor ordered.

Enjoy. And Happy Holidays!

Sh*t Girls Say - Ep. 2

2011-12-20T22:21:00.000Z

It's funny because it's true.

All I Want For Christmas...

2011-12-20T20:18:00.000Z

... are any of these darlings!

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Casios and G-Shocks are soooo last season and I need a wrist watch ASAP.

This little beauty will do just fine.

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This amazing golden Lomo!

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Céline's Boston Tote for day and this Prada tell-all clutch for night, please.

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Cat-eye sunnies.

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This adorable ASOS frock.

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What a combo!

This sweetheart skirt and that wooly sweater is perfection.

Jessica Alba's look in full, perfect for Christmas Eve.

Everything from the glitz to the cute hair-do.

Love!

So, please do feel generous! Because after all, Christmas is all about giving, right?

Sh*t Girls Say

2011-12-17T14:41:00.000Z

I've seen this half a dozen times and still laugh out loud each time.

Other than being Juliette Lewis' buddy with twinsy bracelets, this could be me.

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 8

2011-12-16T13:47:00.001Z

Source.

How happy am I to be back on TBR?!

V E R Y!

Check it out here!

Christopher Hitchens (1949 - 2011)

2011-12-16T13:32:00.000Z

I'm not that I'm apologizing about this but... still... I feel bad.

RIP.

Class Actress

2011-12-16T12:52:00.000Z

Brooklyn’s singer-songwriter Elizabeth Harper’s new act, Class Actress, is quite a change from a capella web-only cover-band Girl Crisis, where she sings along side the sweet and soft vocals of several other leading ladies, such as Caroline Polachek from Chairlift and Erika Spring-Forster of Au Revoir Simone.

When you listen to Class Actress’ debut album, Rapprocher, released in October on Car Park (home to Memory Tapes, Toro Y Moi and Beach House), it’s pretty much like setting a time machine to London in 1981: with a sound that could be described as lo-fi New Wave, the oh-so-80s heartbreaking, melodramatic lyrics walking hand in hand with catchy electronic tunes will crimp your hair right, broaden your shoulder pads and have you campaigning for Reagan.

Perfection

2011-12-15T20:45:00.000Z

There may be no such thing as perfection but these are pretty damn close.

The stunning Erika Labanauskaite.

Natalie needs no introduction.

Grace Kelly's white frock in To Catch A Thief.

Keira Knightley's green gown in Atonement.

Gone With The Wind aka. the greatest film with the greatest heroine. Ever.

Mad Men... And hot men on bikes.

Best friends.

Me and my BF on a lazy sunny morning.

Audrey Hepburn + Hubert de Givenchy + Paris = P E R F E C T I O N!

Misery Bear: When Depression Makes You Laugh

2011-12-13T19:40:00.000Z

Misery Bear, a depressed, lonesome, suicidal teddy with anger management issues, is the furry little star of a series of short films commissioned by the BBC, directed by Chris Hayward and Nat Saunders. It’s so impossibly adorable you won’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Back From London

2011-12-13T19:27:00.000Z

Back from a week in London and missing it already, despite the bitter cold and 4pm sundown.

I was pretty short on time and cash this time round so I didn’t get to do much. The Da Vinci exhibition was sold out and daily tickets required very and many long hours of cueing I couldn’t afford. Basically a couple of hours at Waterstones and browsing through Vanity Fair at Heathrow on my way back were are as intellectual as I got.

Most of high street was already on sale but, as always, I managed to pick out the only items that were not on sale or stuff that even with a decent discount cost the equivalent of Switzerland’s GDP, so… no shopping.

I did however find out a couple of new eating joints which I highly recommend: Comptoir Libanais off South Kensington (thanks F. and S.!) and Racine in Knightsbridge which is possibly the best French restaurant I’ve ever been to (thanks W. and C.!).

Anyway, holidays are over (boo!) so posts will resume as normal (yay!).

O Último A Circular É Um Ovo Podre!

2011-12-02T09:18:00.000Z

Bom dia!

A minha cara-metade está a arrendar um belíssimo T1 de 75m2 em Campolide (a 5min da Faculdade de Economia da UNL, a 10min das Amoreiras e a 15min do Corte Inglês/estação de metro S. Sebastião).

A cozinha está totalmente equipada, tem A/C, estores eléctricos, porta blindada, vidros duplos, lugar de estacionamento, arrecadação privativa... um luxo!

O apartamento está completamente mobilado e com muita luz natural! O prédio é novo, com elevador.

Não é por seu meu namorado mas digo-vos, é uma excelente oportunidade!! €750/mês (inclui despesas de condomínio) e dá sempre para fazer uma atençãozinha se pedirem com jeitinho.

Circulem o link (http://apartamentovitorbastos.blogspot.com), sff! Sem hesitações, se estiverem interessado, já sabem: mail para mim ou directamente ao Pedro! (pedro.v.silva@mail.telepac.pt).

Obrigada! E bom fim-de-semana!!

Metronomy

2011-12-02T08:50:00.001Z

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Good morning Girls and Boys!

The Evil Twin is off to an unusually early start but nothing kicks off the day, and the weekend for that matter, like a good set of songs and I was anxious to share these with you today.

I first found out about Metronomy when I heard Heartbreaker a few years ago, which is the kind of track that is so good it made me buy their sophomore record without any pre-listen or research, it was that awesome.

Following Nights Out is their third album, The English Riviera which keeps this British quartet’s characteristics: 80s synths, Joe Mount sexy falsetto, the I-can’t-help-but-dance beat and somewhat sarcastic lyrics.

Definite contender to this year's Best Albums.

I won't be posting the next couple of weeks as I'll be away on holidays visiting friends and family back in London. Don't miss me too much!

Happy weekend!

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 7

2011-12-01T14:32:00.000Z

The beautiful MJ's having the Evil Twin back on TBR.

Check it out!

Here!

Watcha Readin'? Part 2

2011-11-30T20:29:00.000Z

Parenthood Gone Awry

Although I first read this a few years ago, when it was published back in 2003, the award-winning “We Need To Talk About Kevin” isn’t the kind of novel you easily forget and now that it’s back in the limelight due to its cinematographic adaptation by Morvern Callar’s director Lynne Ramsay, I thought I could recommend it on today’s “Watcha Readin’?”.

Lionel Shriver (pseudonym of journalist-come-novelist Margaret Ann Shriver) writes a disquieting, gripping novel about a mother, Eva, in a desperate attempt to understand why her teenage son Kevin premeditated and executed a Columbine-style massacre in his high-school, reaches out to her estranged husband Franklin and their need to talk about Kevin.

Kevin has, not surprisingly, a sociopath’s behaviour: he has no affection or moral responsibility and pretty much hates everyone in his family and community but the portrayal is so subtle you really tend to dismiss his actions, signs of disturbance and social detachment as being common childish mischief, as Eva did: after the tragedy, suffering from extreme guilt, she questions every aspect of her son’s upbringing, questioning every punishment or scolding.

The central theme for the story is the rationale behind Kevin’s horrific behaviour. “Why?” is the simple question to which none of the characters, including Kevin himself, knows the answer.

With “We Need To Talk About Kevin” Shriver provokes the eternal social debate of Innate vs. Experience: are we intrinsically good and it is society who corrupts us? Or are some people just born evil, no matter what their upbringing? Are we born with character or do we only acquire it through behaviour?

Equally igniting some debate on parenthood, although – thankfully! – in a completely different tone, was this year’s The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas.

The story starts off during a family and friends’ barbecue, when a spoiled 3 year-old threatens another kid and, to everyone’s shock, is slapped by the threatened kid’s father, who will later be charged for assault by the spoiled child’s parents. The reverberations of the slap and the subsequent court case raise all sorts of issues and doubts in the lives and relationships between all those who witnessed it happen.

With a very clever narration through each of the eight primary characters (four women and four men with very different ages, social backgrounds, ethnicities and sexual orientations), Tsiolkas makes each one of them a main character at different stages of the novel, each giving insightful observations and shedding light on the others, allowing the reader to fall in and out of love with each character throughout the book.

A brilliant portrayal of multicultural Melbourne (with no lack of profanity and graphic sex), The Slap exposes the many flaws and cracks of modern families and society and exploits recurring controversial issues: have we become too soft? Can children not be disciplined anymore? How can an apparently harmless (and justified) domestic incident transform a community of family and friends?

Must we handle every responsibility and issue over to a nanny state?

Have you read any of these? What did you think?

Marni For H&M

2011-11-29T19:59:00.000Z

Forget Versace, forget Viktor & Rolf, forget Lagerfeld, forget Jimmy Choo… After Lanvin, Marni for H&M is THE BEST COLLAB EVER, hands down! I'm so giddy and thrilled I practically pissed myself when I read that this was happening for the SS12 collection. *SHRIEK!*

Please do accessories, Consuelo, pretty please! Shoes, sunnies, necklaces… the lot!

Pics from here, here, here and here.

American Horror Story

2011-11-28T14:01:00.001Z

Being an incorrigible Gleek, I had to check out Ryan Murphy’s latest project, American Horror Story (AHS), which premiered October last on FX.

Although Nip/Tuck was already about troubled souls and disturbed lives (McNamara, Troy, their families and patients: wackos, the whole lot!) and even the apparently glossy, sugary Glee was actually about inner turmoil and anxious kids, I couldn’t have imagined that Murphy, or anyone else for that matter, could have such a twisted, bloodthirsty imagination.

The show centres around the Harmon family, who moved from Boston to LA to escape their latest family drama: after Vivien has a miscarriage, her husband Ben has an affair with one of his Psychology students and their daughter Violet is unavoidably neglected in the middle of all this.

They move into a macabre mega-mansion which reeks of bloodcurdling, spine-chilling, haunted horrors but, somehow, the miserable couple don’t seem to notice and their angry teen daughter doesn’t seem to care.

AHS brings to life (or death, rather) the most horrific urban legends you could think of, decked with disturbing hallucinations, an all-too-scary-to-be-funny-but-also-kinda-sexy gimp (reminds me of Pulp Fiction’s “bring out the gimp” scene) and sh*t-your-pants secondary characters, such as Jessica Lange as the spooky fifties-era next door neighbour and Six Feet Under’s Frances Conroy as glass-eyed governess Moira.

Influence of 60s and 70s horror movies is palpable, from the characters to the setting but, when compared to AHS, Rosemary’s Baby should be playing on Nickelodeon.

Honestly, no matter how blazé you are about this stuff, AHS will scare the sh*t out of you. For real, my heart’s racing and stomach tightening just thinking about the damn show, that’s how good it is! I admit I scare easy and
normally I wouldn’t be caught dead (no pun intended) watching a thriller or horror movie. Only Ryan Murphy can make me endure hour-long episodes of permanent fear. The only time I wasn’t curled up in foetal position was when Dylan McDermott, albeit in a pretty disturbing scene, struts naked around the house, showing off his perfect, tight booty. Hubba hubba!

In an interview promoting AHS when they were still doing Glee, Murphy said he and co-creator Brad Falchuk were "doing some squeaky clean, sweet, optimistic, non-cynical piece, [Ryan Murphy] wanted to do something that sort of tapped into the different side of [his] personality”. Oh, it’s different alright. But different’s good, very good.

Well played, Mr. Ryan Murphy You sick, twisted, demented, disturbed genius. Well played.

Austra

2011-11-25T18:59:00.000Z

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Despite sharing their name with a Norwegian island and the Latvian Goddess of Light, Austra actually come from Toronto. A sort of cross between goth-pop and new-wave, this three-piece has inevitably been compared to the likes of Ladytron and Zola Jesus.

I have to admit I wasn’t too taken by the rest of their debut album Feel It Break but their single “Lose It” is perfect for TGIF!

Shoegasm

2011-11-24T14:29:00.001Z

As my fellow Lisbon girls will know, nothing butchers heels quite like our beautiful yet treacherous national pavement (a calçada portuguesa). Since I walk to work, I’ve long traded in my towering pumps for comfy flats. I tried the whole New York deal, where you commute in your Nikes and switch into your Choos at the office but it’s easier said than done. First, you get an awful lot of unwanted stares when you’re wearing a pencil skirt with trainers, particularly if you’re sharing the lift with the CEO… Second, I lose stuff like you wouldn’t believe, so I’d say the odds are pretty high of me leaving the high heels on the tube and spending the rest of the day avoiding being caught in my “executive with a hip-hop twist” look and being asked if I’m recovering from foot surgery…

Anyhow… I digress. The thing is I miss wearing fancy shoes… and having the money to buy them, mostly. I’ll splurge on two things (amongst many others) when I’m rich: shoes, of course, and a chauffeur so I can spare and show off said shoes. Heel-slaughtering-pavement be gone!

These are few pairs which have been lingering in my Wishlist for some time now:

Fabulously Fancy!

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These Miu Miu glittery pumps are heavenly...

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... especially when worn by Diane Kruger with little else.

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Sienna's wooden heels: NEED!

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Nude pumps: a must-have classic.

No one rocks a heel quite like Kurt Geiger.

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And because a girl still needs her cosy flats, these are the hottest (and warmest) item on my list:

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Happy Thanksgiving to all our US readers!

Sábado

2011-11-23T19:04:00.000Z

7 Minutes In Heaven

2011-11-23T18:56:00.000Z

Mike O’Brien, an SNL writer since 2009, started this summer a web series called 7 Minutes in Heaven, in which he invites (mainly comedy) celebs into his very awkwardly small closet for a few embarrassing questions, nonsensical role-play sketches and, of course, as the name tipped you off, an uncomfortable smooch at the end.

There are only a couple dozen videos and they’re all under 5 mins so absolutely worth watching, but the best are, not surprisingly, the ones with Jack McBrayer and Andy Samberg.

Enjoy.

I Want To Go To There...

2011-11-22T18:46:00.000Z

I can't quite belive this house is for real.
It's Aerin Lauder's Aspen getaway.
I want to go to there...

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Talking Funny

2011-11-21T19:11:00.000Z

Through a recent NYT piece on female comedians, I read a 2007 Vanity Fair article by Christopher Hitchens entitled “Why Women Aren’t Funny” which left me nothing short of stunned.
Hitchens’ starts off by claiming that, whereas women list a man’s sense of humour as a quality, men seldom reciprocate and won’t be heard saying “Oh, she’s great, beautiful… and, man, does she make me laugh!”. Firstly because men usually don’t find women funny and, secondly, because they don’t really care if they are. It’s all about looks, says Hitchens. Men, he writes, are funnier because they need to be funny, otherwise they won’t get laid. Being funny’s a survival instinct. Women, on the other hand, need do nothing than just “be” to attract men.
I beg to differ.
I don’t know whether Hitchens’ a perv or surrounded exclusively by beautiful women but that whole “just being” thing never got me anywhere.
I, unfortunately, lack many a physical attribute. I’m no Shrek, thank the Lord (and my parents, they had something to do with it after all), but I’m no stunner either. However, for some inexplicable reason, I always end up hanging with the cool crew of beautiful people: since school my friends are so incredibly good-looking you’d think I picked them right off the runway. So, from a very early age, rather than being the pretty girl, I was their little gremlin sidekick.
But I was ok with that because I was funny. I made kids laugh. I was the typical class clown and nothing thrilled me more than hearing the classroom roar at one of my insolent, cheeky remarks that could get me into trouble, sure, but, God, was it worth it!
Plus, I moved around a lot as a kid and changed school every 3 or 4 years, leaving friends behind and having to make new ones all the time. Humour was the best and quickest way to make new friends: girls weren’t threatened by me and boys knew I would be hassle-free and “one of the guys”, so we all got along just great.
Indeed, humour’s been my defence mechanism since forever and, contrary to Hitchens’ belief, being funny is actually a great way to get guys’ attention.
Obviously, you’ll always have your stereotypical alpha-male with an inferiority complex, who’d rather date a brainless bimbo with a pretty face, round ass and great pair of legs and tits than a girl that can keep up a conversation, even if she too has a pretty face, round ass and great pair of legs and tits. But those boys aren’t really my type anyway, so it’s all good.
Risk number two is that being funny is a trip on the fast lane straight into the “friend zone”. That never really bothered me either: I didn’t really give too much a damn about dating until very late in life. Spending lunch-break smooching and walking around hand in hand with a boyfriend seemed to me like an utter waste of time and I’d much rather spend it running after a football or fooling around (in the non-sexual connotation of the expression, of course).
But, overall, those brave few guys that liked me, I know liked me because I was witty and sarcastic. So, either I‘m the exception to your rule, Mr. Hitchens, or living proof that your theory’s bullsh*t.
Hitchens’ then outrageously concludes his article by affirming that women could never be as funny as men because they reproduce and conceive babies whilst men don’t. Because we women carry babies, everything else in life is secondary, wit included. *GASP* Seriously?! It’s just too offensive and despicable for words. It would be like arguing with Tom Cruise about scientology: pointless. Best I just move on…
I must, nonetheless, sadly agree with Hitchens on one thing: funny women are, sadly, an exception.
I know it’s incredibly sexist but women have to work twice as hard behind a stand-up mic because the simple fact that they’re female makes me think “ah, this is going to tank”. I don’t know why it is. Prejudice, pure and simple? If a woman and a man tell exactly the same joke, odds are we’ll laugh at the guy telling it but not the girl, right? A very silly yet credible Stanford University research proved that men and women have the same humour-response system, they find the same things funny, so the problem isn’t so much the message, i.e. the joke, but rather the messenger, i.e. the comedian.
But what if women simply can’t come up with funny material? Hitchens’ theory is that humour, being a sign of intelligence, should not be demonstrated by women, being men threatened by clever women and all… *GASP AGAIN* Wait, what? Jesus!, where did this guy come from? Again, I really don’t know which crowd Hitchens’ been hanging out with but he needs a new batch of friends, preferably from the 21^st century.
So then is it because men, in general, are just better at telling jokes, no matter how good or bad that joke is? Or are women doomed to social bigotry?
This discussion on whether women are as funny as men or not isn’t new and it hasn’t been settled, nor does it look like it will be any time soon but, the sad truth is my main comedic references are, indeed, overwhelmingly male.
However, there is hope! My “funny girl” quota’s been increasing in recent years and female comediennes have become very important and solid references I greatly admire.
Tina Fey is an obvious choice. I absolutely adore her and everything she does, acts in and writes. She is the best thing to have hit the comedy scene in a long time and 30 Rock is one of the funniest shows ever. Plus, she’s gorgeous to boot, that geeky, gawky, gangly kind of gorgeous. My all time favourite funny girl, without doubt.

Sexy Sarah Silverman was nothing short of groundbreaking when she started doing stand up. Unfiltered and brash, she’s shockingly funny, leaving even the most open-minded audience uncomfortable: nothing’s taboo or off limits. You don’t know whether to gasp and cringe or laugh and applaud.
She famously jokes “I was raped by a doctor, which is so bittersweet for a Jewish girl.” It’s all there, wrapped into a one-liner. “Come on”, she adds, “who’s going to complain about rape jokes? Rape victims? They barely even report rape.” Cherry on top.

Kristen Wiig is another SNL girl that is funny through and through. Although I’m not quite sure she does stand up, her SNL characters are wonderful (Dooneese will make you wet yourself, seriously) and her self-depreciating humour, which delights me to bits, made the relatively crappy Bridesmaid worthwhile.

And there are others: Wanda Sykes, Catherine Tate, Mindy Kaling, French and Saunders, even Ellen DeGeneres, despite her God awful, annoyingly obnoxious talk show (what’s with all the dancing?!) made me laugh to tears with her HBOspecials. And then there are female comediennes ranking my all time favourite TV characters: Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Elaine Benes, Jane Lynch as Coach Sylvester, Kristen Schaal as the adorably awkward Mel on FOTC…
I honestly believe women can be as funny, it isn’t a gender issue. It’s a social issue.
Men, in general, are ballsy, outspoken, candid and somewhat thoughtless and inconsiderate, whereas women tend to overthink, care too much about others’ opinions and feelings, prefer to withdraw and keep a low-profile. I am aware this is a simplified generalisation and that there are obviously exceptions to both genders but, come on!, it’s been so overdone only because it’s true: a ruthless businessman is a competent go-getter; the women, a stone-hearted bitch. It’s no different in comedy: a man tells a dirty sex joke, it’s hilarious and daring; if it’s a woman, she’s a crass whore.
As we grow up, humour becomes increasingly about sarcasm and mockery: being funny becomes synonymous with being mean, even if it’s being mean to no one but yourself. Girls don’t like being mean. We’re all sugar, spice and all things nice, right? Truth is I’d rather offend someone than pass the chance of getting a laugh, even if only my own. Eyes almost popping out of their sockets in shock is the new laughter.
It’s a man’s world, right? So, girls, grow a pair and be funny!!

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 6

2011-11-21T18:50:00.000Z

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Back to The Beauty Routine! And today it’s all about the boys!Read up, here!

First Aid Kit

2011-11-18T18:54:00.000Z

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I first discovered these sweet, singing, Swedish siblings through their haunting rendition of Fleet Foxes’ “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song”. Their woodsy, weather-beaten vocals received much praise in the folk circuit and got them to play along side big names such as Bright Eyes and Jack White, who produced their track “Universal Soldier”.

Their sophomore record “The Lion’s Roar” will be released early next year, but the homonymous single has already been put up on Youtube.

It’s the perfect winter soundtrack. It just makes you want to put on a chunky knit and wander round a campfire in a leafy, snowy Nordic forest whilst eating cinnamon and ginger biscuits. Bliss.

Enjoy.

Watcha Readin'? Part 1

2011-11-17T13:18:00.000Z

“I Was Told There Would Be Cake”.
Or How Sloane Crosley Gave Chick-Lit A Good Rep.

I first found out about Sloane Crosley through a piece she wrote for Elle UK 3 or 4 years back, about turning 30. I was blown away at how someone could approach such a worn-out, unoriginal and saturated subject with such a fresh and hilarious take. I tore out that article, had it hanging over my desk for a couple of years but, as the ink started to fade, I’ve since taken it down and now keep it in one of my many memory-filled shoe-boxes and will probably hold on to it until it crumbles into dust.

I then found out that Crosley, a literary-publicist-come-writer, once dubbed New York’s most popular publicist, had just released her very first book, I Was Told There’d Be Cake, a collection of 15 essays which quickly became a New York Times bestseller.

Very much like Seinfeld, I Was Told There’d Be Cake is a book about nothing and everything that happens to young New Yorkers, from hateful diva bosses to being locked out twice, on the same day, from different flats, without forgetting an embarrassing secret My Little Pony collection.

I agree: it isn’t exactly ground-breaking stuff. You could fill an Olympic stadium with all the books written by witty New Yorkers telling tales of unpleasant jobs and unfortunate apartments. And, truth be told, I Was Told There’d Be Cake resonates best with women between 20 and 40 tops.

But, still, Crosley stands out from the crowd. Repeatedly compared to both Nora Ephron and David Sedaris’ ironic and self-pillorying yet laugh-out-loud funny styles, critics and reader alike raved about the book, Crosley’s mordant sense of humour and, most importantly, her brilliant writing. She makes it seem effortless and simple when, as every knows, real quality and talent are neither.

Plus, I Was Told There’d Be Cake has a very portable and beautiful edition by Riverhead and, with only 230 pages, it’s the perfect commute book. You’ll be sure to start off your day with a big smile: it’s not so much as reading a book but more like having a laugh with a friend.

I must admit that deep down I envy Crosley and, basically, want her life: she interned at the New Yorker; she’s dabbled in pretty much everything, from essays, interviews to fiction and criticism which have appeared in The New York Times, The Guardian, Vogue, the Village Voice and the BlackBook where she’s been a contributing editor and columnist; she’s a publicist for Vintage for the likes of Toni Morrison and Jonathan Lethem … And has notoriously beautiful, shiny hair.

Her sophomore book “How Did You Get This Number” was released in paperback earlier this year and is also very much worth a read, particularly the odd episode with clowns right here in my hometown, Lisbon, Portugal. She tells Craig Ferguson all about it:

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 5

2011-11-15T21:40:00.001Z

Round 5 of the Evil Twin's participation on the best beauty blog out there.
It's even starting to get hate mail so it must be worth a read, right?
Check it out.

It's All About The Leather, Baby!

2011-11-15T21:21:00.000Z

I’ve always had this love/hate relationship with leather. I love its rebel undertone, luxurious feel and sexy look. However, whenever I wear a pair of leather pants or jacket I feel like the missing member from the Village People or an extra from the S&M version of the Matrix.
The truth is leather is pretty unforgiving: you need a stunner figure so it looks chic and an even more stunning budget to blow on quality leather – the low-cost or faux versions such as pleather are never worth the money, no matter how cheap.

Jitrois does amazing skin-tight leather but the cut’s a bit too much “Russian slut” for my frame and taste (apologies to any Russians – sluts or not – reading this). High street stores carry trendy cuts but the leather’s quality rarely matches the over-inflated prices they try to rip you off with a menacing “but it’s leather!”.
I didn’t really find my match until I fell in love with Balmain and Burberry’s gorgeous biker jackets and blazers, which they’ve been making for a couple of years now: ultra feminine, über sexy and incredibly comfortable, this is what leather should be.

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Along with the white shirt, LBD and trench, I believe every woman should invest and own a great leather jacket. It’s unexpectedly versatile: it obviously goes with any casual attire but really gives an edge and youthful feel to fancy gowns.

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Black leather trousers are an absolute classic but nobody pulls them quite as beautifully as Miranda Kerr.

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Isabel Marant’s mod-inspired red pants are a must but it's colours-galore for all leather pants, even metallics!

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But designers are letting their imagination loose and are going beyond the basic jacket and trousers: from cropped tops to hot pants, leather is everywhere, is everything! Here are a couple of suggestions for all you non-vegans (please don’t hate-mail me! I love cows too!).

Source

Haters Gonna Hate.

2011-11-11T13:09:00.000Z

Isn’t it sad when your life’s high points are being accused of child pornography or writinga karoke-hit song, soundtrack to the worst film ever made, and that its all down hill from there?
Well, no. It’s not sad. In R. Kelly’s case it’s funny. Laugh-out-loud, piss-my-pant, smack-my-thighs funny.
Check out his vent song after his tonsil surgery (only Robert could make tonsils surgery sound this sexy) and reminisce over THE BEST SONG ever made, hands down. The woman’s accent is heaven sent, gets me every time.

Why I’m Craving Oysters and Pinot Grigio

2011-11-10T20:59:00.000Z

Although it’s been playing since the early summer, only yesterday did I get to see Les Petits Mouchoirs (Little White Lies), written and directed by the oh so handsome Guillaume Canet, who you might remember as Virginie Ledoyen’s boyfriend in The Beach and know as Marion Cotillard’s husband.
Les Petits Mouchoirs is part drama, part comedy about a group of thirty-something well-off Parisian friends who choose to keep their yearly tradition and head off to gorgeous Arcachon for a couple of weeks of sea, sun and wine-soaked vacation, despite leaving behind one of their number in intensive care after a horrific motorcycle accident. This tragedy and moral dilemma sets the tone for the rest of the film, where characters debate and doubt everything, from their sexual orientation to the text messages they send.
A French version of The Big Chill meets Secrets andLies, actor-turned-director Guillaume Canet’s sophomore film was despised by critics across the board who deemed it unoriginal, clichéd, too long (154mins) and underwhelming when compared to Canet’s highly acclaimed debut thriller Ne Le Dit à Personne, also starring Francois Cluzet.
I, however, very much enjoyed Les Petits Mouchoirs, laughed whole-heartedly and sobbed in the tear-jerking finale. By exploring the relationships of this group of long-term friends, the film really spoke to me and focuses on the feeling many of us late-twenties, early-thirties share: it’s that stage in life when you realize things haven’t quite turned out as you hoped for and find yourself thinking “I really f*cked up, didn’t I?”. I guess most young adults can easily relate with the film’s characters: they’re just like us, a chain-smoking, wine-drinking and oyster-eating French version of us. But the best part is that, even though life is sh*tty, even though we all have skeletons in our closet and even if we tell each other little white lies – because we’re pride, ashamed or protecting others – well, the truth is that, somehow, friends, the real ones, stick with us no matter up: we’re locked together by their bonds of love and that’s what makes life worth living. Cliché? Sure. But true, thank God, very true.

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 4

2011-11-09T19:39:00.000Z

Source.

If for some inexplicable and unjustifiable reason you still aren’t following the TheBeauty Routine, here’s the link for today’s post, a little somethin’ somethin’ I wrote. You’re welcome!

NaNoWriMo

2011-11-08T14:05:00.000Z

Source

Can youwrite a novel in under a month?
Well, the organizers of National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo as its known, think you can and should.
NaNoWriMo is an annual internet-based creative writing project which challenges participants to write 50,000 words (roughly 175 pages) of a new novel between November 1 and November 30 (or so says Wikipedia).
The project, launched by Chris Baty back in 1999, has since grown from its initial 21 participants to over 200,000 participants at last year’s event.
To participate, you must register with NaNoWriMo’s website and submit until November 30th a 50,000 word novel: it can be about anything, in any genre and in any language. And it doesn’t even need to be a complete novel: you can simply submit the first 50,000 words of a novel to be completed later.
The trick to achieve this daunting task is to write about 1,700 words each day or, if like most of us, your job will wear out any energy or imagination to write at the end of your day, try to cram 12,000 words each weekend (and since I’m posting this a little late, that’s a weekend less to count on…). You must submit as you go along and you’re not allowed to go back and edit what you've already written.
Although this seems to promote the infamous “quantity over quality”, the idea is to free people from the usual writer-blocks and inner-editor and –censurer: just start writing. Stop polishing and rewriting and editing… Just unleash your creativity and write. It doesn’t have to be good, it just has to be a start. The deadline is a mere incentive to get the story going and to put words to paper.
No official prizes are awarded for length, quality, or speed and don’t even consider cheating (i.e. pre-prepared writing) as an option: no precautions are taken to prevent cheating; since the only significant reward for winning is the finished novel itself and the satisfaction of having written it.
It’s no easy task: last year, only about 10% of participants reached the 50,000 word goal. But at least every participant had at least the start of something satisfying.
What are you waiting for?

“The Internet Is A Waste Of Time, And That's Exactly What's Right About It”, William Ford Gibson

2011-11-07T19:15:00.004Z

If there’s one thing that pushes my buttons it’s this ongoing debate on whether the Internet is isolating or uniting us: are we actually connecting with each or become recluses behind our laptops, posting about the beautiful day rather than being outside enjoying it?This woman at work was bitching about Facebook the other day, on how ghastly it is to pry in other people’s lives and expose your own, how she doesn’t buy or fill out anything online because she daren’t leave her data around for savvy hackers to pinch it and how she never takes her kids to the mall because “nature teaches you everything in life”.
I had to control my impulse of yelling “Whatever, loser. Go back to your Amish farm on your donkey cart and send that pigeon courier when you’ve arrived to your candle lit cottage and are reading Montaigne on papyrus!” Probably wouldn’t go down too well as water-cooler small talk.

Turns out, she actually lives in Sh*tville, Suburbia, where there’s nothing but malls around, she makes other people order stuff online for her and she has got a Facebook account: it’s a very sad one, sure, completely open to everyone and unprotected, you can snoop right in, alright, and she’s got, oh, let’s see, 6 friends, two of which are her pre-pubescent kids.
As everything else in life, the key is moderation. I know it sounds wack to all you pseudo-hippy purists out there but get a load of this: you can actually have a healthy, outgoing, social life whilst also being a normal 21st century citizen, i.e. be online, whatever you’re doing there. You don’t even have to be all that smart: with pretty much no thought at all, you’ll realize that you probably shouldn’t sit on your ass and be a couch potato all day and human contact is nice, so you turn off the TV, close your laptop and go out a live a little. Crazy, huh? Well, pretty much EVERYONE I know does this.

I’m as outdoorsy as it gets: a true beach-bunny, I love anything out in the open, being out with my friends, eating out, walking around and doing everything you’re supposed to do when you’re not behind a screen, be it the TV’s, PC’s or mobile’s.

But, God, do I love being online. I love having Facebook. I love knowing what my friends around the world are up to and love gossiping about it. Besides, unlike my bitter-6-friended-all-access colleague, I have just about enough IQ to grasp that challenging concept of clicking on a privacy option, thus keeping pervs and meddlers out. Mind-blowing! I love Google Reader (old version, of course). I love shopping online: agony of supermarket trips be gone! and, particularly, carrying the grocery bags up 3 flights of stairs to my flat. I love not having to go to the bank and being able to deal with everything I need online. I love reading newspapers and magazines from around the world and not spending a penny. I love Amazon, I can’t imagine my life without it, specially now during the upcoming X-Mas shopping season. I love Youtube, I love it!, from sassy kids to cute dogs, to it being an awesome music playlist… Love it.

And, obviously, I love blogs: mine but mostly those of others. And discovering other bloggers: it’s like meeting your long lost sister, realizing that there are so many people out there just like you, with the same worries, passions and sick, sick mind. Blogging soul-mates, if you will. So, thanks to my modest, unknown and little read Evil Twin, I’ve discovered so many amazing talents, I can only image the impact of widely read blogs and sites.

As a rule these talents are listed in our Evil Siblings and Evil Interests links on your right. Most you’ll follow already or have at least heard of but I’ve updated them lately so as to include a few of my recent blogger friends, all found through my BBFF (blog best friend forever) The Beauty Routine, and all proving that (Portuguese) girls rule, MoFo! Check out recently added So Blushed, a fellow Portuguese living in Richmond, Virginia!, the beautiful A Refinaria and the über cool Glimmer Le Blond.

Something Good

2011-11-05T18:30:00.000Z

A day in the life of Monkey, a rescue dog. Adopt a pet - you'll both be into something good!

Watcha Readin'?

2011-11-03T19:21:00.000Z

There is no friend as loyal as a book. Hemingway supposedly said this. And he killed himself. Hmmm. Guess books can be loyal but they’re pretty shitty when it comes to saving your ass. Still, it’s true: one is never alone with a book. Sure, Angry Birds are great to kill time but nothing compares to the ultimate pleasure of reading a great book: that feeling that the train-ride wasn’t long enough, that you just can’t put the damn book down and are torn between the excitement and sadness of finishing it that you pace your reading by the end.

I've realized I've seldom - dare I say never? - written about books on the Evil Twin despite being a keen reader and enthusiastic book-sharer. I've perhaps feared it would easily become pompous and, in spite of reading a couple of books each month, that amount may vary: holidays mean a book every two days but, shamefully, there are times when I read little more than the back of my cereal box, my TiVo, a left-over-handled-by-at-least-98-passengers Metro on the tube and Facebook updates (that counts as reading, right?).

So here's to new beginnings: “Whatcha Readin’?” will become a new fortnightly feature on the Evil Twin, spice up the blog a bit. I’ll let you know what I’m reading and my thoughts on what I’ve read and, hopefully, in return, all you Evil Twin readers out there will recommend books you've enjoyed! Word of warning, though: not that I’m a literary snob but you might want to rethink Danielle Steele or Nicholas Sparks suggestions. And Proust, for that matter: you haven't read À La Recherche Du Temps Perdu and you never will. As Mark Twain said, “'Classic': A book which people praise and don't read.” (Just realized I shouldn’t be quoting Twain when telling someone off for being pretentious). Anyhow… I digress.

Because I’m currently reading Ayn Rand’s exasperatingly long Atlas Shrugged (arrgh! how many more 200-paged monologues can I take?!), it will probably be a while before I move on to a new book (which hopefully won’t give me hernias and wrist injuries), therefore we’ll start off this segment next week with books I’ve already read and are worth mentioning.

It doesn’t have to be a full on Oprah Book Club kind of deal: I won't announce the book by sing-shouting the title to a hyperventilating, over-excited female crowd. Especially because, unlike Oprah, although books are also one of my favourite things (we have so much in common, Ms. Winfrey and I!), I'm not giving them away. Sorry. You’re lucky if I'll post Amazon's links.

So, think about it, send in your thoughts and recommendations and keep an eye out because, starting next week, we’ll soon know the answer to “Watcha Readin’?”!

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 3

2011-11-02T19:16:00.001Z

So how to you take ths look from day to night?

The Evil Twin's making it a habit of invading great blogs from even greater folk: MJ's been sweet enough to let me back on The Beauty Routine. Yay!
Now go read it!

Google Reader Est Mort. Vive Google Reader.

2011-11-01T00:36:00.000Z

I'm still a little shell-shocked with this so-called up-grade that has completely disfigured and slaughtered Google Reader. I make Courtney Stanton’s words my own. Read it, it's worth it. And it makes me want to cry.

It’s a sad, sad day for the Internet. Bring on the sad memes!

Happy Google? You made Oprah cry. I'm pretty sure that's a capital offense.
Shame on you.

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T19:05:00.002Z

Story Of My Life

2011-10-31T14:12:00.000Z

From here.

It's All About Me

2011-10-30T12:27:00.000Z

Finalmente uma música com o meu nome e sem a palavra "chupa".

Awww, The Artic Monkeys Wrote A Song About Me, Ain't That Sweet?

2011-10-28T22:50:00.005+01:00

Holy sh*t, Alex Turner's been reading my blog!Or perhaps it’s just a coincidence and really it only is the B-side to the Suck It and See single to be released on Halloween and not everything is about me, yadda, yadda…

I still think it’s too eerie to be just a fluke. Move over, Chung! (But do leave your entire wardrobe behind, thank-you very much.)

TGIF!

2011-10-28T21:23:00.002+01:00

Home Chic Home

2011-10-28T21:17:00.000+01:00

I do love Kate Spade’s cute, girly and candy colour clothing line but I was blown away by these gorgeous pics of her NYC flat: the sophistication, combination of muted and vibrant colours, soft lighting and artwork covering the walls are pretty much an exact replica of what I would love my humble abode to look like.

Pics from here.

Nothing Spreads Like Fear

2011-10-26T20:40:00.000+01:00

Little tip for all you germaphobes out there: go equipped with gloves, mouth masks and hand sanitisers because Contagion will scare the living sh*t out of you.

I usually keep a safe distance from excessively star-studded casts (in this case, it’s Matt Damon, Kate Winslet, Jude Law, Gwyneth Paltrow, Marion Cotillard, Laurence Fishburne, Bryan Cranston…). Rarely are they synonymous of quality. In Contagion, however, it works: you focus on all characters equally and let the leading role be played by the invisible, highly contagious, deadly, nameless virus.

It all starts with Paltrow’s character Beth Emhoff who, after a business trip to Hong Kong, seems to have little more than jet-lag and a cold but inexplicably has a seizure, dies within hours as does her son, soon after her. Around the same time a man on a bus in Hong Kong dies with exactly the same symptoms as does another man in China, and yet another in Chicago, and so on and so forth The pandemic spreads with harrowing speed whilst labs struggle try to find a cure and society shatters, with looting and rioting breaking out into war-like grim scenarios, frightfully similar to the unnerving images of New Orleans post-Hurricane Katrina. The count-down narration and the very recognizable Soderbergh-style fast-paced editing further increase the tension and idea of haste, which are major features in the film.

The chilling part is that this plot isn’t all that unrealistic. We’ve seen the H1N1 scare, the rate at which HIV takes lives in Africa, how quickly our daily streams of connection and every personal and professional relationship which make our life possible, ironically can become the vehicle the destroys it.

Being a germaphobe myself (you’d be surprised with the techniques I’ve come up with so I won’t (directly) touch anything unsanitised or untrustworthy): I can only reassure myself with Jason Solomons wise words: it’s a disaster movie, not a documentary.

Still, bleach rules!

Goodbye Summer

2011-10-22T18:11:00.000+01:00

After a blissfully belated summer, it seems like autumn's definitely on its way. So here's my "homage" to my favourite season, so as to bid farewell to summer.
Is it wrong that I'm already missing sun soaked beach days?...

Pics from here & here.

Dance Your Way Into The Weekend!

2011-10-21T14:04:00.001+01:00

We started the week off with a gyrating Beyoncé but we’ll end it on a softer tone, with a few of my recent musical discoveries that will be freshening up my somewhat stale i-tunes this weekend. TGIF!

High Highs
I’m absolutely in love with this Australian-come-Brooklyn trio. They kind of remind me of Other Lives – another of my favourites for this year – with their wistful tunes and sorrowful lyrics which are right up my I-love-wrist-slittingly-depressing-music alley.

Milagres, Kill Rock Stars
These Brooklyn boys initially caught my attention because of their Portuguese band name but they’re obviously much more than that. Although they’ve been (unfairly) compared to Coldplay, don’t be fooled: Kyle Wilson's falsettos are more Wild Beasts-ish and their debut single, Glowing Mouth, is a beautiful gateway to the homonymous brilliant album.

Frankie and The Heartstrings, Hunger

But don't be fooled by the apparently chirpy, eighties influenced melodies: this five-piece from north England know how to write some wicked lyrics that will get you hooked in no time.

Oh Land, Oh Land
This delicate Dane – a former ballerina and Missioni model – is all the rage right now. Classical dance is an obvious influence in her lyrics and composition, which is both good and bad: I do enjoy the sweet fairy like touch but feel it isn’t powerful or memorable enough. A good listen, all the same.

Smith Westerns, Dye It Blonde
This Chicago trio has already featured in The EvilTwin's best list and this year they've yet again produced a very promising record, "Dye It Blonde". Although it sometimes throws you back to the 70s rock vibe, you can really feel Chris Coady's touch (who's produced and mixed for Beach House, TV on the Radio and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs). Currently enjoying it, for sure, but I’m not sure I'm loving it quite yet.

Gang Gang Dance, Eye Contact
Still trying to figure out whether I love or loathe these New-Yorkers. This is their 5th album but I shamefully admit I've only just heard of them. A sort of crossover between vintage synths and world music on drugs, it certainly makes for interesting listening.

Only A Month Away...

2011-10-20T13:10:00.000+01:00

... until the Versace for H&M collection hits the stores. Pics look very promising: I'll definitely be stocking up on those gorgeous dresses! Cannot wait!

2011-10-19T19:55:00.000+01:00

Hot Chicks of Occupy Wall Street from Steven Greenstreet on Vimeo.

A New Take On The Pencil Skirt

2011-10-18T13:58:00.001+01:00

Pic by Matthew Brodie.

Dance Off Those Monday Blues

2011-10-17T20:46:00.001+01:00

If this doesn't get you in a good mood, I don't know what will.

I need to learn this choreography ASAP... and find out how Beyoncé manages to keep everything inside the cleavage of that last outfit (they get deeper and deeper!): there isn't enough double tape in the world!

Laugh Off Those Monday Blues

2011-10-17T14:11:00.000+01:00

From here.

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine - Part 2

2011-10-17T14:07:00.001+01:00

The Evil Twin começa hoje uma participação no imperdível projecto The Beauty Routine da minha querida Maria João, de que já aqui vos falei. Ide ver, aqui!

Submarine

2011-10-15T18:11:00.001+01:00

Set in 1980s Swansea, Wales, “Submarine” is a coming of age comedy with both genuinely funny and bitterly sad moments but, most of all, with the ultimate soundtrack, composed exclusively of Alex Turner’s melancholic ballads.

The main character, Oliver Tate, coincidentally played by an Alex Turner uncanny lookalike, Craig Roberts, is struggling between discovering love and sexuality with his dark, pyromaniac love interest Jordana, and trying to save the marriage of his parents, beautifully played by Happy Go Lucky’s Sally Hawkins and Noah Taylor, which is jeopardized with the arrival of his mum’s first love, an obnoxious new-age self-help guru.

The IT Crowd and The Mighty Boosh’s Richard Ayoade’s directorial debut has been unavoidably compared to Wes Anderson or Michel Gondry and I believe it’s a good thing: although it may not be deeply original nor flawless, it’s a great, entertaining film. And who doesn’t love a bit of welsh accent once in a while?

From Russia, With Love

2011-10-14T01:45:00.000+01:00

This is possibly the most beautiful lookbook I've seen this season, from the equally striking Ulyana Sergeenko. To die for, Doctor Jivago style.

Pics from here.

Eargasm

2011-10-12T20:22:00.000+01:00

Reminds me of early PJ Harvey.

Good stuff.

Les Nouveaux Pauvres

2011-10-12T20:09:00.001+01:00

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars”

Oscar Wilde.

I tend to avoid socio-political issues on The Evil Twin, mainly because it isn’t the purpose of this blog – it’s meant to be a light-hearted, frivolous outlet – and also because I’m not an expert on the matter: my layman’s point of view tends to turn into this Bill O’Reilly style rant or, worse, a pseudo-manifesto like the ones we all wrote for our pretentious college newspaper when we thought we were avant-garde geniuses that would change the world.

It has become, however, increasingly difficult to ignore this so-called “crisis”, that generic expression that justifies every misery in the world. Put on weight: “Ah, it’s this bloody debt crisis!”; burn your tongue on the scalding coffee and/or lava-hot micro-waved pastry: “Damn you, bailout!” (with a lisp, of course, since you your mouth is scorched); don’t get laid for a year: “Forget Italy, I’m the one who needs a rescue fund!”.

The truth is that over the last 3 or 4 years things have changed dramatically. This year and the next will be even worse. We need to rethink society and the concepts we’ve been brought up to trust: a college degree doesn’t mean you can get a job; a job does not mean you’ve actually got work to do; if you do have work, it doesn’t mean you’ll get paid (a decent amount or at all); and if you do your work efficiently this doesn’t mean that you’ll be rewarded more than a pat on the back and a condescending “well done”.

Aren’t generations supposed to evolve, to be better than the last? Aren’t we supposed to be better off than our parents were? And aren’t our children supposed to outdo us and their children outdo them and so on?

I may be the exception but I’m definitely not better off than my parents, when they were my age. Far from it. I’m nowhere near where my parents were and they weren’t exactly Bill and Melinda Gates. They were the regular middle class stereotype: married with a couple of kids, decent house, wage and car, we even had a golden Labrador, for God’s sake. They travelled, dressed well and had all the hobbies you’re meant to have when you’re young. I, on the other hand, am unmarried, childless, struggle to pay my 50-year mortgage, drive my parents’ car (if I can afford gas). I can’t even keep my geraniums alive, let alone a pet dog. My biggest shopping extravaganza is getting half-priced ASOS and hobbies to me are more like stuff I can do for free when I’m not working, eg. this blog. I earn an insultingly low wage which I quietly accept because I’m at the employers’ mercy (especially because I work in finance, not the best market right now…) and those SOB know it. I basically survive on precarious artifices such as credit cards and overdrafts, which means I spend half of my nights sleepless trying to figure out how I’m going to make it through the week, buy food and pay bills.

It wasn’t meant to be like this.

I’ve prepared my life and expectations convinced I’d succeed and never ever thought I’d have to skip a few meals so I could pay a late bill or pretend I’m ill so I can unashamedly skip outings with friends because I’m so broke I can’t even afford a latte.

I’m poor, genuinely poor. And yet, my appearances would tell you otherwise. I have a seemingly high-power job, I live in a great neighbourhood; my friends look like they’re worth a million dollars; my clothes aren’t shabby (yet)… and yet I’m broke.

I’m a “nouveau pauvre”.

The so called “nouveau riches” are sooo 1980s… they’re practically extinct now. There aren’t that many people starting off poor and making buckets of money right now, it’s pretty much the opposite: everything’s in the red all the time, people are losing money left and right. It’s Shitville wherever you move to.

But the “nouveau pauvres”, on the other hand, are clearly a growing trend. My generation (i.e. between 25 and 35 yo) is, generally speaking, worst off than our parents when clearly it should be the other way round.

I don’t what the key is to turn this situation around. I’m still trying to figure it out. Trust me: I, more than anyone, am anxious to break the circle and move on and up, but I just can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel… not just yet. But I’ll keep looking for it and hope that any of you who feel the same will keep looking as well and give me a heads up if you find out anything helpful.

Wilde, quoted above, also said that “what seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise”. Let’s hope so.

Craving For Some Carven

2011-10-11T13:47:00.000+01:00

I'm falling increasingly in love with Carven, it might possibly be my favourite brand right now. The pre-spring collection was to die for (those bow shoes!) and SS12 looks pretty promising too!

Pics from here.

Pricey But Nicey!

2011-10-09T22:12:00.001+01:00

Only a month to go before the Versace for H&M Collection hits the stores. The price tags are a little higher than common H&M gear (as these pieces always are) but I'm very much looking forward to this!

Donatella with H&M’s creative advisor, Margareta Van den Bosch

And if only they could get these sweet little numbers on the high street: it's the A/W'11 deliciously called "Wearable Opulence"! One can only dream...

Pics from here.

Hope you all had a great weekend and charged up for the week ahead!

Oh Bambi, What Have You Done This Time?

2011-10-08T21:25:00.001+01:00

Legends Of The Fall

2011-10-07T21:24:00.000+01:00

Loving this belated, lasting summer but it does seem like too much of a good thing: I’m pretty sure these warm sunny days are going to bail on us soon enough without any warning: its hotpants and crop-top today, boots and mittens tomorrow.

So, for precaution purposes only, of course!, I’m already stocking up for my A/W wardrobe.

The one thing I love about autumn is that you can keep wearing summer clothes and throw on a chunky knit, coat or scarf and – despite wearing little more than a bikini – you still look sane. It doesn’t work the same way in spring, it’s the opposite then: you keep wearing winter clothes (mainly because around April our skin’s paler than an albino zombie) but then just carry the heavy coat on your arm and sweat the hell out of your Uggs.

Anyhow, this is the perfect autumn look I’m talking about: cut-offs and bare legs with a bulky sweater and army boots. And, of course, the Chanel purse for that girly touch. Love it: nothing matches but everything goes. This is the real deal.

Love me some Mary Janes! They’re so juvenile I feel like playing hopscotch and skipping to work. Plus, they’ve usually got a solid, stable heel which allows all that hopping and skipping. These are the cheap(ish) ASOS version inspired by the Chanel classic…

... and these are the actual Chanel on Caroline Sieber's feet. L-O-V-E!

Finally, every girl needs her Little Red Riding Hood duffle coat. This is Urban Outfitters’: love the A-line seaming.

The Evil Twin Supports The Beauty Routine

2011-10-07T18:42:00.001+01:00

Forget all you know (or thought you knew) about make-up: from now on follow MJ's tips on her new blog http://thebeautyroutine.com. Trust me: if it means looking half as beautiful as she always does, it's more than worth it.

Your Time Is Limited, So Don't Waste It Living Someone Else's Life

2011-10-06T23:08:00.000+01:00

Who isn't writing about Steve Jobs today? It would be sinful not to mention his passing but, then again, the utter lack of originality of sharing his Stanford's commencement speech is another sin in itself. Well… let he who is without sin cast the first stone, so I’m going to join the web-crowd in celebrating Steve Job’s genius.

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t own – and love – an Apple item: be it an ipod, ipad, iphone, macbook, mac-pro… and, in many cases, all of the above. Apple – mostly through and because of Steve Jobs – has become part of our lives, with its innovative and audacious inventions. People who would have abhorred anything slightly techy or gadgety were suddenly hooked on Jobs’ zen, calculated and almost theatrical product-launch presentations.

As a die-hard music fan, finding it virtually impossible to endure life without a permanent soundtrack, I was more than delighted to replace my deadbeat walkman and discman for an ipod my parents got me for Xmas almost 10 yrs ago. It was THE best present ever and, to this date, I am yet to find a (supposedly) futile gadget that serves so much purpose and joy.

I’m certain Apple will remain a key market-player and tech leader: When Steve Jobs stepped down as CEO a few months ago, this was already largely discussed and, despite a one-day stock-loss, Apple is still the greatest valued company in the world. I have no idea if Tim Cook will match – or even outdo – Steve Jobs as head of Apple but it will certainly be very difficult to match his charisma: although many of those who worked with Jobs slated his autocratic, temperamental and egotistical persona, it’s impossible not to admire him and be engulfed by his magnetism.

As I mentioned, Steve Jobs’ Stanford commencement speech in 1995 (with over a staggering 6 million views on youtube – and I’m pretty sure this number will increase wildly over the next couple of days) is being shared and shown worldwide – and I myself posted it here a couple of years ago. It is, without a doubt, one of the best speeches ever made and, regardless of how many times I’ve heard it, I get emotional each time because it (still) hits a cord. The speech was first sent to me by a dear friend from college who, like me, was in a pivotally difficult professional situation. We were both lawyers, each at very high profile law firms, yet we both loathed our jobs. I can easily say that, to this date, I’m yet to engender as much revulsion as I did for my former job and bosses. We were deeply unhappy at how our lives turned out professionally but felt we were in a dead-end and lacked the audacity to quit and move on. Well, at least for a while. My friend quit her job a month later and went on to work on a completely different project and I left my own (now former) job, albeit in the worst circumstances ever, and also moved on to different shores. I vowed that never again would I let myself plummet in that life-sucking, depressing spiral.

Steve Jobs emphasized that “[y]ou've got to find what you love”. Thing is, I still haven’t found what I love. I’m turning 30 next year and am still clueless about what I want to do in my life. Being academically successful, I always assumed that being a straight-A student would automatically bring me professional bliss. Sadly, this is not the case. But I haven’t lost hope and refuse to surrender to it being too late.

Steve Jobs said: “Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle”. I won’t settle. I too will find what I love and succeed, make a difference and be happy with my job. I doubt I’ll accomplish 1/100th of what Jobs did but, still, I want to achieve something.

My life is, has always been and, I suspect, will probably always be, highly improvised, unpredictable and varied. Most of the times I struggle to find logic or reason to the events in my life but I take comfort in Jobs’ words: “you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future”.

This was yet another sad battle unfairly won by the shittiest thing around: cancer. As remarkable as it was that Jobs fought quite literally for his life for almost a decade, cancer has claimed yet another victim and Mankind is definitely poorer today.

RIP, Steve Jobs.

This Week's Other Musical Crush

2011-07-29T20:20:00.001+01:00

Jenny Lewis' Got The Midas Touch

2011-07-29T20:13:00.001+01:00

Kinda sorta obsessing over this sweet couple right now...

Go Leti!

2011-07-28T20:02:00.002+01:00

Love it!

Aaaawwwww!

2011-07-22T19:10:00.002+01:00

This might actually be this.

Current Mood

2011-07-20T23:09:00.004+01:00

Daqui.