Map of Nowhere

In what I hope will be a charming antidote to the previous Essex blog, I am going to tell you about that time I went to a lecture at the British Library about maps.

No really.

The British Library is currently exhibiting 'Magnificent Maps - Power, Propaganda and Art'. Unsurprisingly, it was not I, but Alan Deeks, who was the catalyst behind this particular jolly, and it is testament to my love for him that I went along with it so amiably. To sweeten this somewhat bitter pill, Cindy Deeks booked us tickets to a two hour map lecture afterwards - the sweetener being that Grayson Perry would be speaking.

I love Grayson Perry. I first saw his work when he was nominated for the Turner Prize in 2003 for his pots - the first Potter to ever win, and most probably the last. His work falls somewhere between art and craft - he is a potter, painter, drawer, quilter, sewer. He is an Essex born cross-dressing married father of one. He is impossible to categorise, and would prefer you didn't try. His work is beautiful, witty, relevant and accessible. He is eloquent, fiercely intelligent and cripplingly modest.

Perry spoke about maps and how he has used them as a medium - to organise information, to chart experience, to express a journey. Perry is his own subject, and most of his work, and his maps, are introspective. I've never heard an artist speak about their work in such an honest way before, and this really was an honour and a privilege. I would recommend this exhibition to anyone.

Map of Nowhere

The Walthamstow Tapestry

A tiny section of Perry's Map of an Englishman

You can take the girl out of Essex....

But you'll never take the Essex out of this girl.

No longer having a home in the legendary county hasn't dulled my love for it - and no sooner had the bell tolled 5.30 last Friday was I away from my desk and aboard a train to Ingatestone, near Brentwood in Essex.

The reason for my visit? My darling Emma is departing, yet again, for sunnier climes. As a super-cool-hot-shot Club Rep Miss Claridge teases us with her presence in the Winter months, and then come May she's off again, ready to charm holiday makers in a new destination. This year it's Zante, and I'm already harbouring hopes of a late summer getaway to see my oldest, cheekiest friend.

But Friday night was not a night to dwell on such sadness. Friday was a night to party like only Essex can, where the music scene refuses to let go of the early noughties garage heydey and where the wine is £4.95 a bottle.

God bless the homeland.

Emma. I miss her already.

Wright and Teague

Mayfair jewellers Wright and Teague launched their new collection Nuba, earlier this week - and the fabulous Alex Kotsias and I were onhand for champagne guzzling and accessory ogling.

Highlights? Getting papped, making friends with Ginnie Weasley (vast exaggeration) and trying on a 19k solid gold necklace... which I promptly had to give back.

See my Vogue.com article for all the gossip.

BUNNY BLOG (5)

I exercised my Godmother rights last weekend with a spot of bunny-sitting - and I even managed to refrain from smuggling the little fluffsters home with me.

Regular followers of BUNNYBLOG will remember the anticipation of their arrival, the joy of our first meeting, and the excitement of the first obstacle race (in which i was unfairly penalised for 'bunny pushing'). Well, the bunnies are all grown-up now, and apart from the odd nibble at the skirting board (expressly forbidden in the Gillinson-Barratt household) they were as good as the little gold Lindt bunnies with bells around their necks.

Matilda looking contemplative

Male bonding

Barnaby, observing from on high

Just incase you thought it was all glamour...

Quilting

The Bank holiday weekend is always a perfect excuse to have an indulgent day - a treat day. And my treat day was spent with my mother, at the V&A.

Although she would never admit it, my mother is incredibly artistic. Be it knitting or sewing, cooking or card making, she is always creating, making or designing - and always in a practical way. Things to use or consume, to be worn and to keep you warm. A treasured possesion of mine is the blanket she knitted for me, which lies at the end of my bed in summer, and is generally wrapped about my person during winter. It is functional and beautiful. Rather like its maker.

The quilt exhibition at the V&A appealed to both of us, but I had no great expectations of it - an error on my part, I found out. It's a fascinating exhibition, documenting quilts from the 1700's to modern day. And no, this isn't just a lot of pretty blankets, it really is a journey through history. And not just the 'big' history on the curriculum, but the history of women, of domestic and family life through the ages.

The earlier quilts were amazing for their intricacy, the time and labour was unimaginable by today's standards - they could take decades to complete, and were handed down through generations. The wartime quilts were particularly charming, where the 'make and mend' mentality was clearly present - the backing could be pieces of newspaper or the paper from an empty bag of flour. The material could be scraps from clothing, ribbons, old curtains... and pieced together they were really quite breathtaking.

Believe it or not, quilts can be subversive too. Because they are so intrinsically linked to the family and domestic sphere artists like Grayson Perry and Tracey Emin have used the medium to discuss abortion, child labour, adolescence.

It really was a unique exhibition - and an interesting contrast to the V&A's current showcasing of Grace Kelly's dresses - a woman emulated and admired by millions for her elegance and glamour. Together, the exhibitions show the dream and the reality. The way women wanted to be, and what life was really like, and maybe what was really important.

Crowds are flocking to see Grace's wardrobe and booking in advance is essential - but for me, the quilts would win every time.

Tracey Emin's 'To Meet My Past'

Grayson Perry's 'Right to Life'

Latest from Vogue.com

Tavi in Trouble and my very first piece of Sports Journalism (sort of!!)

Thankfully, a Mouse.

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of meeting baby Matilda, the first child of my dear friends Rebecca and Gareth. Obviously she is divine, with an easy temperament, English rose complexion and a shock of red locks.

I remember reading once that babies are born into one of two categories, as either Pig or Mouse. A mouse baby is perfectly proportioned with small, delicate features. A Mouse baby will sleep contently in your arms, with only the sweetest of yawns escaping its lips.

We have all experienced the shock of peeking into a pram to discover a Pig baby. With stifled gasp and look of horror one must pretend that the Pig in question is not a bulbous pink creature, puffy and shouty and angry looking. It is advised to make pleasantries and move away quickly - before your cover is blown.

I am so very pleased to report that Matilda is most definitely and definitively a Mouse.

A bundle of Joy

Ravishing Shoes at Rupert Sanderson

A Rupert Sanderson press day is the definition of a good day. Not only do I have a legitimate excuse to leave work in the middle of the day to try on shoes, sip champagne and munch macaroons, but I also get to see my most wonderful and treasured friend Ms Alexandra Kotsias - the PR maestro behind super-shoe designer Sanderson.

The a/w collection is perfection: from red velvet to pink patent, from dogtooth boots to vertiginous gold heels - the shoes are decadent, sexy and intelligent.

The brand is expanding fast, with stores now open in Paris and Hong Kong - and Rupert is nothing if not generous. The first customer to present a receipt from the Paris store at Mayfair's Bruton Place HQ may pick a second pair free of charge. Now you really can't say fairer than that.

Dragoon

Frisco

Liquid

And God forbid he ever gets bored of shoes, there's a career in sponge making with Rupert's name on it!

The Doom Cloud

I think we might be missing the point.

I'm not sure the point is missing flights or being stranded in foreign climes. I'm absolutely sure the point isn't lost money, or lost time. I don't think the point is anything to do with air traffic control, or the surge of hits to the BBC news website.

I wonder if we are being shown who is in charge - or more specifically who is not. I wonder if we are being shown how insignificant our plans are. I wonder if it's a warning.

Paris Loves Ralph

See why at vogue.com