Vix Louise Blue Halter

Named for the beach city of Vitoria in Brazil where founder Paula Hermanny grew up, Vix collections are renowned for cutting edge materials with use of stylish detailing in the form of tortoiseshell, gold and leather. Our picks of the range offer something for everyone, be it a classic cream halter, Brazilian style string (for the brave!) or Grecian style bandeau.

Vix is worn by the glamorous all over the world, if you don’t believe us check out Kelly Brook! http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1268460/Kelly-Brook-tops-tan-pink-bikini.htm

On each and every trip in the sun (and there are usually a lot of those in a year) me and fellow sun worshippers (Sister& Friend) have a very special day that we look forward to with great excitement. We discuss this day frequently, we analyse the scientific explanation behind this day (not for long obviously, too much brain power required), we even make bets on which day this day will fall… So what is this special day I hear you ask?

We call it ‘Turning Day’… The magical day when after many days of exposing your grey and red mottled body (courtesy of those f*!%&*g mosquitoes) to the sun without so much as a hint of any white bits, your skin suddenly decides it does want a tan after all! In the space of one miraculous day you go from milk bottle to bronzed beauty. It’s a strange phenomenon, your dull spotty skin mysteriously clears up, your hair shines, your eyes look brighter, your teeth and nails whiter and you glow with good health. Every day after Turning Day you get better and better looking until by the end of the holiday you are seriously considering moving to a hot climate where you could be this good-looking all year round!

Sadly there will be no more Turning Days for me this year. I have just returned from the very sunny South of France which rather depressingly ends my globetrotting for a while. Thailand, Miami and Cote D’Azure is pretty good going, but Sister has started added things to my To Do List so it’s back to the grindstone…

So bags packed full of sunscreen, bikinis and kaftans, Sister, Boyfriend (shorts not bikinis and kaftans) and Friends set off for the Sunshine State to attend Swimshow 2010 in Miami. The plan was for Sister and I to attend the show and choose our 2010 collection whilst Friends and Boyfriend chilled out in our beach house rental. Sister and I would then join in with the chilling.

First real hitch in the plan (sitting on the runway at Heathrow for an hour is par for the course these days and therefore doesn’t count) was US immigration. It would seem that being a youngish Muslim male going on holiday to Miami entitles you the privilege of being stopped and searched at every possible point of your journey through the airport. Now I understand the justification behind this ( to a certain degree) and that the security is there for the safety of us all, however is there any need to have 3 different officers asking the same highly insightful questions (“what is your occupation?” , “why are you here?” and “who are you with?”) in 3 different locations of the airport without cross referencing each other and with such spectacular rudeness…? Welcome to Miami in the words of Will Smith…

Suffering with a bit of jetlag the following day we decided to take our front row seats at one of the fashion shows we had been invited to at the Raleigh Hotel. Boyfriend must have thought he’d died and gone to heaven as a constant parade of bikini clad beauties trotted out in front of him, and he maintains he was only taking pictures for our benefit! The next morning we headed off to the Miami Beach Convention Centre for the show, Sister berating me for not having a fully typed up and printed out itinerary for each day, me clutching my scrap of paper on which I’d scrawled our appointments and scratching like a flea ridden dog (what a lovely image of me you must have in your head). Yes that’s right… I forgot to apply the mozzie spray and was bitten to buggery by those pesky ‘no see ums’ or ‘chiggers’ as they are known in the States ( what a great word ‘no see um’!) For a few days I looked contagious and on occasion wished I was, as smug bite free Friend  helpfully informed me that “scratching only makes them worse…”. Oh really? Thanks for that information!

Swimshow 2010 was a great success for us, we met lots of new suppliers, saw lots of lovely swimwear and as well as some work it was sun (oh yes it was baking!), sea, sand , glitz and glamour all the way. I had my nails done by Myrdith Leon-McCormack, a lovely lady who is a manicurist to many an A-Lister and has just launched her own nail varnish range M2M, treated myself to a spa day at The Standard and did a small (!) amount of shopping! It was all just to much so it’s off to a South of France hideaway in the hills to recover….

Sister has offended me deeply. She called my house “a shit tip”. “A shit tip…a shit tip…” I spluttered , “How very dare you!” “Well you have way too much stuff and you’re always telling other people to de-clutter, perhaps you should practice what you preach” she retorted. She was (for once) right and although I am usually the queen of clean her sharp words have freaked me out so much that I have launched into a whirling dervlish of dusting, hoovering and generally chucking stuff out.

It’s amazing how much crap one individual can accumulate. Boyfriend and Mother are both good examples. Boyfriend’s garage is so full of ‘stuff’ it would be a miracle if it is ever used for its true purpose. His favourite is collecting wood… “that’s a good bit of wood, that is” he will exclaim excitedly happening on some woodworm ridden twisted piece of timber. “For what exactly” I ask “burning…?” Apparently not by the filthy look aimed in my direction.  When I ask Mother why she insists on keeping bags of coins that have gone out of circulation, several pieces of  ugly cracked crockery she will never use and scratched LP’s from the early 80’s that she is unable to play because she has no record player, the answer is always the same. “Oooh I can’t chuck them out they you’re your great nan’s, they might be worth something”…Hmmm only to Oxfam… “One day they will all be yours and your Sisters”…Can’t wait….

I had a good laugh the other day, you know where you laugh so hard your tummy hurts…! Driving around a green near to where we live, Sister spotted a fluffy Border Collie sniffing around on the green with no owner in sight. Now, I have a bit of a reputation for rescuing abandoned animals, whilst Sister is known for her harder heart and normally just ignores the situation, but to give credit where it is due it was Sister who insisted we drive around again to check it out. How she regretted that decision!

We ascertained that the dog was on its own, the main clue being when it ran out in front of the traffic and crossed the road, still with no likely suspect for its owner. So we drove past the dog who was trotting along the pavement, having survived the road, and pulled onto the open driveways of some houses fronting the road, blocking its route. It stopped, looked at us and ran up the side of the end house. Sister got out of the car and walked toward the dog. Fluffy Collie turned and stared at Sister, Sister made encouraging ‘come here little doggie’ noises. Fluffy Collie stared a bit harder. Sister bent down and made more encouraging noises.

At this point I realised the dog was not taking too kindly to Sister’s encouraging noises and I thought it only fair to warn her of this fact. “GET IN THE CAR!!!” I roared “NOW!!!” I’ve never seen Sister move so fast as Fluffy Collie came racing at her in a blur of bared teeth and frantic barking. She jumped in the car and collapsed in a sweaty shaking heap and after five minutes of uncontrollable laughing we drove off, Sister declaring that was “the last f*!@g dog she tried to help”. The hard heart is still fully intact.