I have a confession to make: I don’t own a TV. I don’t own a DVD player, and the DVD drive on my laptop is broken. No-one in my house has a telly and I doubt I’d want to sit in their rooms to watch it even if they did, we’re not that kind of household. Obviously, you don’t care about my televisual situation but I thought it’d set the scene to my current Seinfeld binge. For the last few weeks I’ve done nothing but watch Seinfeld and work on a couple of writing projects I’ve got on the go. In fact I watched so much Seinfeld that a few nights ago I couldn’t sleep because all I could hear was that slap bass intro was running through my head like a freight train. While the rest of you were watching Strictly Come Skating With Me I was knee deep in a world of chambray denim shirts and skid entrances, it was… beautiful.

One thing that I was particularly struck by was Elaine’s inimitable dress sense. I’m not going to explain what’s great to you about Elaine’s outfits, The New York Times did it much better than I ever could, but I want you to think about that pint size fuzz ball’s sartorial genius for a moment. While those enormous jackets and jazzy broaches are very, totally, indubitably, nineties there’s something wonderful about her luridly coloured trouser suits that’s adorably charming. And though I don’t know if I could pull of so many shoulder pads, this look is perfect for a winter date – warm, bright, fun, and most of all warm. Have you been outside lately? I saw girls in glittery high waisted pants outside Movida a few weeks ago, how are they doing that? It’s cold! It’s so cold I can see my breath in the kitchen some mornings, and they’re out there in pants? PANTS? I mean ok, I wore a 70s handkerchief as a top once and I thought that was pretty fucking cool, but I also wore a coat, these girls were wearing pants and bare legs. I just don’t get it. Do they not have nerve endings? Someone, please explain this to me. Anyway – let’s get to the outfit.

So the jangly earrings and glittery broach might feel a little bit like overkill, but you can always take them off, what isn’t negotiable are the jazzy trousers, smart but girly shirt, and masculine jacket – compromise on that and you’re missing the damn point. Elaine was fun, feminine but always professional and functional, and I’m sure if she was around today she’d be rocking a tidy pair of spectators in a fun colour combination and gadding about town wrapped up against the cold, arm in arm with someone utterly unsuitable. I say follow her lead with gusto! Kind of.

Screencap from the frankly freaking amazing Fuck Yeah Elaine’s Clothes

In this vein I have decided to start plundering some of the best date-worthy looks from my favourite movies, starting with Rachel out of Blade Runner. Now, admittedly, I watched half of this on a tiny telly at ATP back in November, and the rest of it yesterday afternoon, but I can firmly say that style wise this is one of the best films I have ever ever ever seen. Rachel’s sharp retro-futuristic look is to totally die for.

See? Even as someone who doesn’t normally wear shoulder pads I am salivating over that suit. Although the steep lines and close cut may seem hard to handle, there’s nothing better than the savvy cut of a tight skirt to make you swing your hips as you walk. Here are some pieces to take Rachel’s razor clean tailoring from the celluloid world into date territory:

As for the make-up, well, ok, there’s a lot of it, but hey, if it’s a first date ‘look don’t touch kind of thing’ (I hear they happen…) then you are totally in luck.

Thick brows, dark smudged eyes, and flushed cheeks provide a striking backdrop for the most delectable scarlet glossy lips. Just grab the items below and start working on your best thousand mile stare.

Bobbi Brown No Smudge Mascara in Black
Benefit Non Fiction Liquid Foundation in Volume 1
Shiseido Eyebrow and Eyeliner Compact in BL2 Deep Brown
Nars Blush in Super Orgasm
Smashbox Jet Set Waterproof Eye Liner in Midnight Purple
MAC Lipglass in Russian Red
Nails Inc Nailpolish in The Hurlingham
Benefit Velvet Eyeshadow in Rich Beach

So there you go, no LBDs, nude lipstick, or control underwear, just pure genetically engineered hotness!! Now all you have to do is get out the hairpins and anchor down those ginormous victory rolls…

Back in this post I mentioned a party so terrible that I forgot sleeping with someone at it. While I erased most of it from my mind I have never forgotten a lipstick related mishap that nearly stopped that entire sorry blog post unfolding (why didn’t it?? why??).

At the start of the evening I bumped into someone I thought was my ONE TRUE LOVE. We’ll call him Chet. My primary reason for thinking this was because I’d met Chet while blissed out on some Es. The moment I met him was amazing: I looked up from my scrabbling hands and in a split second the world slipped away. For a few hours I followed him around, hands in his pockets staring at him like there was no-one else in the room. It was probably pretty creepy. A few days later Chet invited me to this now apocryphal party and most of the sheen had worn off him I was still fairly smitten. When I arrived he’d necked half a bottle of Ritalin and was gabbling at me about everything under the sun. I was horrible disappointed but followed him into an empty room anyway to put my coat down. Inside Chet grabbed me by the arm: “Nadia just kissed me.” My heart sank as he was smiling broadly. “She kissed so badly; let me show you.” and before I could say anything he was lapping at my face like a St Bernard. I seized the opportunity as he broke away: “How would you prefer it was?” and so we kissed. We kissed for some time stood in the dingy light of Nadia’s bedroom surrounded by coats and shoes and someone sleeping under a curtain. In my head I was going “Yes! Yes! Yes!” because I am an idiot and do things like that.

Then someone stepped in to drop a bag off and we stood about awkardly talking about how this was a terrible idea and that we should just be friends. Well Chet said that and I said “Oh yes I suppose so.” Mortified that I could have misread a situation so badly I had been staring at the floor, and when I finally had the courage to look up I realised my lurid red lipstick was all over his face. He was telling me, all serious like, that this was just something that we’d done in the moment, and that it would be best if we didn’t think about it again, blah blah blah. I gave him a tissue, told him to clean himself and left the room. It wasn’t until days later that I realised I too must have looked like Robert Smith when I walked back into the party. Subtle.

And so to avoid this ever happening again I have been looking for a matte lipstick that doesn’t smell like crayons, isn’t neon red, won’t dry my lips, and yet won’t leave a trail of smears everywhere I go. Any ideas? It’s rather important you know.

Photo from Le Smoking.