SPIRITAUTUMN 2013

SPIRIT MAGAZINEISSUE TWO AUTUMN 2013

CONTENTSPHOTOGRAPHY

Vladyjhan 6-7, 48-53, 90-91Brighitta Moser-Clark 8-19

Celeste Ortiz 28-35Daiane Marcon 42-45

Madeline Keyes-Levine 46, 56-67Kasia Lipinska 72-77

Beauty in a storm 84-89

WRITINGMy Autumn Sanctuary 6-7

by Tess HendersonThe life of a budding fashion designer 20-27

an interview with Collette DobsonTell someone you love them with a mix tape 46-47

by Christina SchildA Pug’s Guide to Dating review 54-55

by Ozel RowlandHow’ve things changed anyway? 68-71

by The Daily MintLetters to Alma 78-83by Bethany Macdonald

Shall I? 90-91by Kate Williams

ARTAlice Garbutt 36-41The Black Apple 5

74 52

67 14

44 84

Dear Readers,

Issue two is finally here, and what a corker it is! This issue is a tiny bit shorter, only because there’s so much con-tent going into the winter issue, and I don’t know about you but

I’m feeling really Christmassy all of a sudden!

I’m so eternally grateful for all your kind words and support and so glad to be bringing you the autumn iisue. This issue is all about the changing of seasons, the sensation of a bitter wind on

your face and the lovely smell of the cold autumn air coupled with the longer nights that force us to spend an embarrasing

amount of time in our pyjamas.

In this issue you will find a couple of interviews, some lovely photography, some creative writing and a confession, of sorts.

I hope this issue makes the transition into winter a little bit more bearable.

Beth @spiritmag_

facebook.com/spiritmagazineflickr.com/groups/spiritmagazine

@spiritmag_ spirit-magazine.tumblr.com

spiritmag@live.com

Illustration by The Black Appleetsy.com/uk/shop/theblackapple

flickr.com/photos/mofaya1

My Autumn Sanctuaryby Tess Henderson

Nothing can compare to a fresh, crisp autumn day. It’s a time where finding a place of sanctuary provides a sense a con-tentment; a place where the leaves crunch in a satisfactory fashion under your feet and you can soak in the beauty sur-

rounding you. My autumn sanctuary is the American Museum grounds in Bath.

The light offers a tender brightness asIt falls upon this wide expanse of space.

I stretch and catch a falling piece of red.

A glint of amber catches my eye.

I walk towards the golden treesWhere small creatures with bronze wings

Hang and lull. A crack of light breaks through

My sheltered sanctuary.I clamber to the other side

And source my secret.

Giant gestures,Violent tongues of fire,A feathered headdress.

An explosion of rich auburn and Orange paint.

I splash it on my face.I spin,I turn,

I tumble,I wait.

I wait,And watch

The sun As its golden edges

Seek solace in the distance.

Photography by Brighitta Moser-Clarkbrighitta.com

The life of a budding

fashion designer

Collette Dobson is a recent fashion graduate trying to break into the world of fashion design.

We picked her brains to find out what inspired her

being a fashion designer means to her.

Watch Collette’s graduate collection on vimeo:

www.vimeo.com/75512387

The life of a budding

fashion designer

Collette Dobson is a recent fashion graduate trying to break into the world of fashion design.

We picked her brains to find out what inspired her successful graduate collection, and what

@ColleteDobo

being a fashion designer means to her.

Hi Collette,Tell us about you, when did you decide to be a fashion designer?

In my final two years at secondary school I was studying for my GCSE’S and one of my choices was textiles. Studying and working with fabrics, being creative and bringing my styles and ideas to the forefront of my work made me realise that I had a growing passion for fashion so I decided that I’d take the necessary steps to become a designer.

What influenced your decision to study fashion design?

My decision to study fashion wasn’t influenced by anything in particular. Being a triplet I knew I wanted to be a bit more independent and not so reliant on having my sisters always there with me.

Tell us a bit about the design process for your final collection and the inspiration behind it?

First I research into my theme, this includes trips to various places. Then I look into the trends for the season I am designing for. From this I create various mood and theme boards, which I begin designing from.

My inspiration for my graduate collection was jellyfish which was a result of a day trip I took to the deep (an aquarium). Looking at all the different species’ that live in the sea, the jellyfish really stood out to me, the colour, the transparency and the way it moves along the ocean floor, sparked ideas in my head for my collection.

How has studying fashion design compared to your expectations?

I went to Derby University, and listening to other people’s experiences it’s clear that every experience is different. Before going to university I was under the impression that you’re kind of left to your own devices. But it was the opposite! I found I had constant support and encouragement from the tutors throughout my 3 years at uni-versity.

How have your aspirations changed since you were a child?

My aspirations haven’t changed dramatically from when I was a younger. I knew I always wanted to have a career within the creative industry, the question for me growing up was which area? Textiles, graphics or fashion?

What are your plans for the future?

My plan is to learn and work within this industry, and just to be happy in what I am doing.

What has been the highlight of your experience as a fashion designer so far?

For me it was completing university, as I completed my degree with a first.

Who would you most like to see wearing one of your designs?

Everyone!! I think anyone can wear what they like, as long as they feel comfortable and confident.

Do you have any tips for aspiring fashion designers or anyone thinking of studying fashion design?

My advice would be go for it, work hard and be original, and you will get the results you want. Minus the degree, going to university has given me more independence and helped me grow as a person.

An extract from ‘Lusts and Luxuries’by Bethany MacdonaldPhotography by Evija R

Photography by Celeste Ortizflickr.com/photos/algocomoazul/

facebook.com/celesteortizfotografia

Illustration by Alice Garbuttalicedoesillustration.tumblr.com

Photography by Daiane Marconflickr.com/photos/daiane_marcon

Photograph by Madeline Keyes-Levinemadelinekl.tumblr.com

Why you can’t tell someone you love them with a mix tapeby Christina Schild @itsme_chrisok

On a Monday I decided that the perfect gift for my best friend I’m secretly in love with would be a mix tape comprised of songs that I love, and some that hold special meaning for us. I don’t want it to sound too cheesy; as we aren’t really an ‘’us’’, just two kids who

laugh under multi-coloured lights and battle between smiling and holding an intense gaze.

I still see myself as a kid when it comes to this whole love, or “like-like” business. I’ve never told anyone how I feel about them, and if I do it’ll be through the most minute and cryptic signs while furiously believing in the essence of fate and timing. Yet with this boy I felt the most innate need to express a sentence made up of words that would attempt to convey

to him that I thought he rocked. This obviously did not happen.

I rather believed that by making him a personalised gift I would stand out amongst the blur of people that passed him by. I listened to the mix tape today, after not having done so for about three weeks, and I realised that it wouldn’t be my words telling him how I feel

- the songs on the mix tape harmonized those feelings in a way I clearly couldn’t.

You aren’t supposed to wave the fact that you love someone you consider a friend in their face, there’s rules in place to stop you from attempting to escape the friend zone so bla-tantly. There has to be some sense of progression; a warm-up session so to speak, before

you stand in front of them with your heart seconds away from a public breaking.

I made the mix tape at the height of my feelings, I added to it and took away obsessively for about a month before it became my idea of perfect. There were the deeper songs that begged to be played loud, and then repeated until all the lyrics stuck to your brain like cat hair to a favourite jumper. A dance song that raised my heartbeat in the same way he did came two songs after the one we had danced to together, for hours under a blanket of a

cloudless night sky. T

here was the song that spoke of drunkenness which allowed a surge of beer-infused breath, a hand that lingered for long enough on the small of my back and a laugh that

only skipped along after midnight on Saturday nights; it allowed me to relive it all. I even narrowed the Beatles down to one song; do you have any idea what type of ded-

ication and patience that requires? Or how bad I felt to be pressing delete on those heart-achingly raw songs?

Somehow Jack Johnson wandered into my playlist and immediately told the boy that I wanted to make banana pancakes with him, this is not a wink-wink-nudge-nudge thing either. Then bring in guitar strings, and a mouth close to the microphone and you have

trouble. There is a tone of intimacy, of understanding each other and a lack of expectations.

I should have known that the Bon Iver was one song too deep. I should have known, by the raised eyebrows of my friends, that mix tapes lie in the territory of girlfriends or at least

potential girlfriends. At the moment I am neither. I’m a friend. A girl that makes him laugh. A girl that was urged on by courage to make a playlist professing her feelings.

I’m the girl who spends so much time listening and studying because I enjoy seeing his face animate with every curve of his vowels, his brow tighten at a grammatical error and

because his voice floats over my being. I haven’t given him the mix tape yet.

I haven’t told him I love him yet.

flickr.com/photos/mofaya1/

A Pug’s Guide to Dating by Gemma Corell

“Wrinkly of face and fragrant of back-side, the pug is one of nature’s most

romantic creations...”

Words by Ozel Rowlandozellie.blogspot.com

Following on from A Pug’s Guide To Etiquette, self-proclaimed pug guru Gemma Correll is back with her latest installment of doggy self-help, this time in matters of the heart, for the lovable “twenty pound, wheezing, farting lothario”.

As always with Correll’s nifty little guides it is filled with cute and fun-ny illustrations of wary and silly looking pugs- undoubtedly inspired by her two muses, Mr. Pickles and Bella. The book is a hilarious parody of modern dating and a great look-book into her signature drawing of the funny little canine.

And so for the pug in love, or indeed for the pug who is devoid of a mate, A Pug’s Guide to Dating is the ultimate love-bible, covering the basics of the dating game from charming chat-up lines; “did you just roll in fox poop or is that your natural aroma”, to how to perfect first impressions and chance encounters.

We are introduced to the philosophy of love- it holds no boundaries over size, colour or breed as Correll offers pugs in want of love every-where tips on grooming and what to wear on that all important first date: “an enlightened pug knows how to make the best of whatever he has to work with”.

And for those looking to inject some romance into their current rela-tionships, Correll suggests some rather fanciful activities like stargaz-ing, serenades or sharing the love over pan-fried tissues in an organic peanut butter jus and a “Yellow Snow” margarita.

And then, as is life, the book delves onto the more fragile topics of relationships and how to come out successfully on the other side be-cause “there are more plenty more dogs in the park”.

All in all, this works as a great gift for any Gemma Corell fan and is also great as a little coffee table book as we are guided through the world of canine love. Go on human! Pick up your copy of A Pug’s Guide To Dating from Ryland Peters & Small for £9.99

Photography by Madeline Keyes-Levinemadelinekl.tumblr.com

How’ve Things

Changed Anyway?

With a change of season comes a change in self. We wear more layers, change our skin routine, and generally complain a lot more about the weather. Summer never lasts long enough you say, and now Christmas is round the corner, and you’re probably on your third cold of the year. But it’s that tranquil season in between, autumn, that gifts us a much

needed period of reflection. What have I achieved this year? What are my aspirations for the year to come? Will I forever remain single? And in these precious moments away from the pressured hustle of every-

day life, we’re finally able to question ourselves and realise the person that we’ve truly become. In an encouraging attempt to have you re-

flect on the year you’ve led, we’ve interviewed a Cambridge graduate, a spiritually minded Jimmy Choo sales associate and an afro-rocking fashionista, asking them to look back on their younger self and reflect

on just how much they’ve changed.

Words by The Daily Mint twitter: @dailymintblog instagram: @thedailymint www.thedailymint.tumblr.com

“…by the time I turned 16, I was surprised I hadn’t had a heart attack yet.”

Name: Frankie (my real name is actually Frédérique - long story!) Occupation: Digital marketing manager at Topshop From: Paris Residing in: London

What were you aspirations as a child?

I think I was quite all over the place growing up, but fashion was never an as-piration when I was a child. I wanted to be a pilot, then a heart surgeon; when I realised that I couldn’t stand the sight of blood, I wanted to be a pilot again but I have terrible sight and in all fairness, I was just trying to be cool. I just wanted to be the best at something, that was enough of an aspiration to me.

Tell us what you do now, the greatest thing about what you do, and the worst

I’m a digital marketing manager at Topshop. It’s marketing but for the online world. The greatest thing is that I’m surrounded by clothes all day every day and yet, I don’t get any for free. Now that could be the worst thing, right?

What’s the difference between teenage Frankie, and current Frankie?

I’m much more relaxed now, very much. I’m quite stressed and anxious as a person and when I was young, every single bad thing felt like the end of the world. I think by the time I turned 16; I was surprised I hadn’t had a heart at-tack yet. I was the greatest drama queen this world has ever known.

And one key piece of advice you would give to a younger you?

Fuck it. Fuck ‘em. Seriously. Go and get an ice lolly now (I could live on ice lol-lies I swear, I hate ice cream though)

Lastly, what are your aspirations for the future?

Fashion is definitely what I breathe and eat, it’s my main aspiration. Now tell-ing you exactly where I want to be and what I want to do, I wouldn’t be able to. Let me think it straight and I’ll get back to you in a couple of years maybe?

“Dedication and discipline is a must, but the fruits of labor are life-changing...” Name: Julia Abdulrova Occupation: Sales Associate at Jimmy Choo From: Lithuania Residing in: London

What were your childhood aspirations?

I think I was one of those few children who didn’t have any particular aspirations. What I do remember is that I enjoyed life, every day and what each day brought upon me. I had a very imaginative mind and whatever I performed myself or with a group of friends, was in the most creative and original way. From an early age I enjoyed experiencing inner silence, I loved being by myself and had a hunger for mystery.

So tell us, what’s the greatest thing about what you do and what’s the worst?

The greatest thing about what I do is being a part of Swami Paramananda’s mis-sion, who is originally from Mauritius, called ‘Global Mind Transformation’. The aim is to share with the world the true science of meditation and thus help and guide people to step onto the path of self-transformation, which in return will lead to per-sonal evolution. In order to transform ourselves, we have to transform our mind and the key to mind transformation is meditation. It is a journey where dedication and discipline is a must, but the fruits of labor are so life-changing.

The worst thing is that I do a paid job, that isn’t equivalent to my skills and talents and doesn’t engage me creatively. I am in the process of finding myself and a place in society that will allow me to be of service in my own true way.

What’s changed since you were a teenager?

We change every day and every hour. I wouldn’t want to compare who I am now to who I was I then, because it wouldn’t be right. We are born with certain traits of characters from previous lives and through given life experiences we get to polish them for the better. One example of a certain character trait of mine that got trans-formed is me being insecure. I’m much better about myself these days; I recognised my unique value, my originality and my influence.

What’s one key piece of advice that you would give to your younger self?

My one and most important piece of advice is: Believe and trust yourself fully, follow your heart, and have great love towards yourself.

And finally, what are your aspirations for the future?

To help the Global Mind Transformation mission expand internationally, find my dream job, and meet my life partner who is my friend in good and bad.

“Keep doing what I love doing, life is too short not to...” Name: Geoff Cotton Occupation: Actor/Presenter/Singer-Songwriter From: London Residing in: London

What were your dreams as a child?

I wanted to be a train driver, a footballer, airline pilot, racing driver and a pop singer…only managed one of them.

What is the greatest and least great thing about what you do?

The best thing is that I only do what I love doing! The worst is that I never know where the next job is coming from.

What has changed about you since you were a teenager?

Now, I know that I’m capable of doing what I dreamed of doing when I was in my teens, but didn’t think was possible.

What advice would you give to a younger Geoff?

Follow your dreams. Believe you can achieve them because only you can make them happen. Do not settle for less or you’ll never forgive yourself.

Any aspirations for the future?

To keep doing what I love doing, life is too short not to.

So before you burrow into your faux fur and bobble hats this winter, use the most spiritual season of all as a chance to recharge your batteries before they freeze. Looking back over the year and cringing at all the stupid things we’ve done and smiling at the little everyday victories are what it’s all about. So as the leaves start descending around us, and spontaneous cold winds remind us of the oncom-ing winter, strive further, reach further but always look back and remind yourself how you got there. We can only aim high when we know our strengths and where we fault.

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” - Søren Kierkegaard

Photography by Kasia Lipinskaflickr.com/photos/zapomnialam

An extract ofLetters to Almaby Bethany Macdonald

An extract ofLetters to Almaby Bethany Macdonald

There are a few peculiar sensations that the human body can become accus-tomed to, the shuddering roar of a monstrous train crashing down the tracks,

the rush of your stomach as the plane pulls away from the runway and lurches up into the unfathomable blue and even the violent rocking of a gigantic ferry

caught in the midst of a storm. One such sensation that the human body cannot become accustomed to is that of being watched.

Brooke Redgrave, who sat in her elaborately coloured scarf-print dress with her eyes darting around behind her nervously, felt the sensation acutely on the back of her neck. It was hard to point exactly how she knew somebody was looking at her, but an elated feeling ran down her spine and electrified the tiny hairs that stood on end to warn her to be on guard. She glanced back over her shoulders as the cheery waitress brought her hot chocolate with extra cream, but all she

could make out were couples and school children on study leave.

‘What if he doesn’t turn up?’ She thought stirring the cream into the hot brown liquid and turning it into an odd flat sugary slush, admittedly she’d used an old picture of herself on her profile, one where she looked noticeably skinnier and a bit more fashion-forward but she hoped he would expect her to be bluffing a

little.

According to his profile he was perfect, good-looking in that traditional manly way, rugged and muscular and she presumed tall. She had memorised many

details about the way he looked, hair slightly greying, crows-feet that made his blue eyes look like friendly and smiling, a penchant for jumpers, she glared at the glass double doors accusingly waiting to see a moody burgundy jumper pushing

its way through the crowd.An hour later and Brooke was on her third chocolate muffin, she had already

run through an abundance of excuses for why he had failed to let her know he wouldn’t make it, she knew that farm work wasn’t for the faint-hearted and that

he had little signal on his first-generation Nokia.

Eventually though, the hours rolled by and the excuses ran out, niggled by that strange feeling of being watched, Brooke dejectedly left the café. Her house was only a short walk from the city centre, if Alma could be called a City at all, it was a bustling hub for tourism with a quaint Cathedral and an abundance of Tudor

shops and cafes, and was set apart by its original cobbled paths. The very same cobbled paths that caught Brooke’s heel as she walked by in large angry strides

as she wondered if she would ever trust a dating site again.

When she reached the quiet tarmacked road that led up to her house she sighed with relief, the whole day had played havoc on her nerves and she was feeling stressed and cranky. The thought of running herself a hot bath and gossiping with Dotty next door made her cheeks flush and her pace quicken, and when

she reached the familiar red bricked cul-de-sac she was almost breaking into a sprint. Except, when she reached her door there was a nasty surprise waiting

for her in the form of an envelope, it had arrived soundlessly and sat arrogantly on her floral door mat, the only thing that marked it as special was the enticing

way her name was written on the front.

The tone on Oliver’s phone irritated him so much so that a few times he had actually pulled it out of the wall, he had been in the conservatory typing away

when it’s annoying digital version of Mozart’s Ronda Alla Turca had echoed through the house, causing him to aggressively snatch the handset from down

the back of the sofa and place it to his ear with a huff of ill-temper.“Hello?”

“Hello…Oliver?” a nasal female voice echoed from the other end, and for a mo-ment Oliver frowned, he had not expected any females to call him at ten to eight on a Wednesday, it wasn’t his sister and it certainly didn’t sound like his mother,

so for a couple of seconds he struggled to place the voice. “It’s Brooke Redgrave…from number 45…”

“Ah, hello Brooke, sorry.” Oliver thought of a stocky, frumpy woman who prid-ed herself on being the chairwoman of both the neighbourhood watch and the

home owner’s association, neither of which he had ever attended.“Hello, hello, sorry to bother you…it’s just, well; I think I might like to have a chat

at some point.”“Umm…”

“It’s a rather delicate matter actually, which is why I’d rather talk to you in per-son, I know you used to be in the police force and could perhaps work with…dis-

cretion.” “What exactly is the matter?” Oliver frowned, wondering if his policing days

were common knowledge in his neighbourhood, or whether Brooke was trying to use her knowledge of it as some sort of blackmail.

“It’s…I don’t want to go to the actual police you see” Oliver resisted giving her the number of the local police station only because her insistence was peaking

his curiosity.“I’m not a substitute for the actual police…” Oliver added, glancing at his watch.“Five minutes?” Brooke questioned, similarly glancing at her own silvery watch,

“you only live across the road…”

Oliver Thomas rolled his eyes as he pulled on his grey trench coat and stepped out into the bitter evening air, he hadn’t visited his neighbours at all since he had moved in to number 38 but he had an inkling that it was no bad thing, his neigh-

bours were an awful mix of retired busy bodies and suburban housewives, and their houses lacked any warmth or charm as he strode past them purposefully. Brooke Redgrave’s house was the centre of a cul-de-sac, unremarkable except for a navy blue varnished door where her neighbours had chosen post-box red and instead of venetian blinds, she had favoured deep red curtains that gave an orange-glow to her front windows when the light hit them. Oliver knocked on the door tentatively, allowing some time for Brooke to roll off the couch and rush to the door, smoothing down her skirt as she yanked it open dramatically. “I’m so

glad you came! Come in, did anyone see you?”“I don’t think so…” Oliver said, rejecting her offer of hanging his coat up in fear

that she would make him stay longer.

“Good.” Brooke smiled falsely and offered Oliver a seat in the living room which he found to be adequately homely but horrifyingly tasteless, with cream carpets,

red leather couches and awful floral wallpaper.She wordlessly sat down on the couch beside him and offered him a cream en-velope with ‘Ms.Redgrave’ written in careful, elaborate hand on the front. Oliver turned it over in his hands and fiddled with the already opened seal before pull-ing out a crease-free piece of white card decorated with lilies in what appeared

to be gold-leaf.“Would you like some tea?” Brooke asked, pushing herself closer to Oliver than

he would’ve liked.“Please…” Oliver smiled, hoping to remove her from his presence long enough to concentrate on what she had placed in front of him, “do you have any Earl

Grey?”“Only Redbush I’m afraid…” she cooed, looking down her long nose at him.

“Perfect.” He lied, shooing her out into the kitchen.The card was hand written, and it began with the date at the top and the moon-phase and a couple of strangely drawn symbols he didn’t recognise, at first he

thought it was an invitation of some sort except for the content:

Ms. Redgrave,Sorry that it has come to this,

A letter is your first warning and,Let it be your last.

Very soon the truth will come out.And we know what you have done.

The circle will be complete.If you look for us

On your head be it.No survivors.

Oliver turned the card over in his hands, it was expensive and high quality, and was obviously part of a stationery set, much like one of the Stepford wives would

be given for Christmas by their inattentive husbands, he thought to himself, chuckling. He tucked the card back into its envelope and strode into the kitch-

en, “What does it mean?” he asked her. “I was hoping you could tell me…” Brooke cast a solemn look towards him as she rummaged in her cupboard.

“Well it appears to me to mean nothing at all. Perhaps you have upset one of the other women?”

“What do you mean by that?” Brooke snapped, folding her arms.“Only that it wasn’t postmarked, so it’s obviously been hand-delivered and it

seems to be intended as a vague threat, probably to scare you more than any-thing.”

“It has scared me, yes. I haven’t slept a wink since I got the bloody thing and I’ve been racking my brain to see what it means. Do you think I would’ve

called you had I thought that it was nothing? I’d rather keep it to myself. I’m trying to be an active member of the community, I’m working on a choir group

at the Cathedral, I really need to keep a clean image, you know how gossip spreads around here! I’m taking this seriously, but I realise I should probably

have contacted the local force, but I need someone who can be trusted to find out whether I should be losing sleep over this.”

Oliver felt a pang of guilt as he watched Brooke fumble with her dog-eared skirt, “Alright Brooke, let me look it over and I’ll get back to you,” he smiled,

“don’t worry about the tea.”Brooke brightened up immediately, “I couldn’t find the bloody Redbush any-

way…”Oliver saw himself out, thumbing the mysterious envelope inside his jacket

pocket as he strode away.

Photography by ‘beauty in a storm’flickr.com/photos/mkdaphotography/

SHALL I?by Kate Williams

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day, a day in which all appears fair?

Nay, unlike you, the summer does not stay despite radia-tion of your ethereal, sun-kissing hair.

Hence t’would be a slight to claim your personification of that day: a slave to time when the sunset comes,

No light may dwindle from your sapphire blue eyes, or else give weight to my own funeral march drum.

Dearest love, without you I face eternal pain,Am enraged at your eyes ever losing their light,

The mere thought of those treasures beginning to rain?No manner of force could calm my fright.

Thus; as long as we two breath and be,Unmistakably know you mean the world to me.

flickr..com/photos/mofaya1

Spirit MagazineIssue 2

Spiritmag@live.com