Thursday 25th June 2026
Blog Page 1125

One thing I’d change about Oxford… Collections

Louis McEvoy
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One thing I’d change about Oxford… Collections

Before an Oxford term may begin, one must embark on a cruel and terrible journey – one that provokes internal conflict, doubt, and great pain. It is of course the bleak, cold fact known only as ‘collections’. Just as Andy Dufresne must crawl through a rather unpleasant tunnel to reach freedom at the end of The Shawshank Redemption, we too must make our own venture into such a tunnel, and that’s only to reach the rest of term itself!

I tried to find out the historic provenance of this strange evil, but had no such luck; we can only guess what kind of mirthless mind saw a vacation as an opportunity to revise. Yet, at least in my case, this ambition has failed. My last vacation, like the last, was characterised by tragically low productivity, whilst feeling rather guilty and regretful about it.

And so, like any last minute essay crisis degenerate, I pushed revision off , told myself I would do it tomorrow, whilst worry ate away. The fact that this practically persisted until two days before my collections was regrettable, but inevitable. Indeed, the moment you come back to Oxford, you are forced into feeling guilty for your indolence and essentially punched in the face to remind you of how much more you should be doing.

In a way, collections are a good thing. They’re a good thing in the same sense that high taxation is, or reading dry old great novels, or making sure to eat vegetables. They’re probably necessary to get us to do something. Yet I am too weak a man to deal with a day of reckoning at the start of each term. Leave me in peace, collections – I’ll do the work tomorrow. Probably.

The Making of Bench: contribution and collaboration

The Cast And Crew Of Bench
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The Making of Bench: contribution and collaboration

Ellie Siora, Co-director

Filming Bench proved whimsical in every sense of the word: the experience was quirky, capricious and amusing, but also unpredictable and erratic. But amongst the (occasional) over-intrusive directing, the runaway shots, and the in-shot pedestrians – directing Bench was an inspiring experience.

During shooting – however cliché it sounds – what truly stuck out to me was the importance of collaboration. Every member of the crew and cast was essential to telling the story – the unseen artistry of boom-holders and script-markers cannot be underestimated. Not only technically, but also creatively, collaboration and a collective passion to shoot this film and shoot it well was the engine of the project. I came to realise that the ideas of the cast and crew were often better than my own, and that good directing is acknowledging and incorporating these ideas – rather than trying to shine as an individual creator.

A reoccurring joke on set was me and the first AD (David Williams) being like the angel and devil on the shoulder of my co-director (Tara). It felt like playing a game of cinematographic tug of war – striving to frame a shot to ‘perfection’ in the ether of artistic timelessness, against the practical need to actually produce our vision on a tight schedule.

So as the process of artistic decisions was a learning experience, so were the results of these decisions. When we first read the Bench script, we immediately saw its potential to comment on topics in current popular discussion – particularly mental health and gender roles in contemporary society, and how the two intersect. Using the main character Elizabeth (Imogen Allen) as a means to address the conversation around mental health conditions, we were particularly adamant to be as sensitive and as human as possible in our depiction.

Conducting research around the subject was a main priority in ensuring the film could approach the issues tactfully. The current filmography surrounding autism is primarily and almost exclusively focused on the male experience, particularly in blockbuster film culture such as Rainman, I am Sam or Cube to name but three. We felt the gender of the lead would prove elemental to film’s impact, which is why we chose to cast the main character as female.

Although officially autism is more common in boys than girls (1 in 42 compared to 1 in 189), recent researchers believe that this data is skewed due to how autism is identified. Professor Janet Treasure of KCL suggests around a fifth of cases of autism in girls remain undiagnosed – because perfectionism and exhibited rigidity is still considered an inherently ‘female’ trait. Director Beeban Kidron recently emphasised how “movies have the power to create a shared narrative experience and to shape memories and worldviews.” I hope Bench, even though only a short-film pulled together amongst multiple essay crises, can contribute to the conversation in some small but meaningful way.

Annie Hayter, Actor (“Claire”)

I had a wonderful time filming Bench – it was fantastic to work with such an enthused and lovely group of people for my first experience of acting in a short film. It was also exciting to be in a production that had, not only a female protagonist at its centre, but was led by two brilliant women as directors behind the camera, particularly as the film industry can be so male-dominated.

I played the role of Claire, best friend to the main character Elizabeth, and I think my favourite scene is a discussion between the two characters, shot beneath flickering fairy lights, bathing our faces in a blue glow. With that said, I also thoroughly enjoyed doing multiple takes of a scene where my character is running up and down the hill at South Parks, clad in a violet dressing gown, flapping in the wind.

Liv Grant, Editor and Co-producer

Film editing involves transforming the raw footage (500 clips in the case of Bench) into a sequence that tells a story and reflects the director’s vision as closely as possible. This is more complex than simply putting the clips into chronological order. It’s rather is a multi-step process that begins with choosing the best takes, then working closely with the director to select the best angles and where to cut the clips, and finally optimising the audio and colour-grading the film.

Editing really starts in the pre-production, with the director drawing a story board where they block a scene (i.e. decide where the actors will move) and also decide from which angles they want certain parts of the scene to be shot from. These early decisions will often change after the shoot, and editing becomes a very creative process which determines the rhythm and pace of the film.

Bench has been a great project to work on because it has been a very collaborative process between me and the two directors, which often results in three different opinions on how the film should look, and has involved editing sessions lasting up to 10 straight hours. I have been using Final Cut Pro X, as it is a professional-grade software that is also suitable for amateurs as it is very intuitive and easily learnt. Editing Bench has been an eye-opening experience, and definitely something I’d do again.

Bench premieres on Sunday of 3rd Week at the UPP, along with the other four OBA ‘Easter Project’ films

Florio: a Poet’s Dream

Benn Sheridan
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Florio: a Poet’s Dream

Sunday of 0th week is an odd time. I feel I should be working, but also, it’s the weekend, I’m hungover from a bop I happily cannot remember and – most importantly – I’m lazy. One part of my day has featured intermittently in most of my Sundays in Oxford: Magdalen’s Florio Society. A poetry discussion group, informal, typically with alcohol, it would not be an unusual scene across Oxford. There is, however, one extraordinary difference: the poetry being discussed is very much contemporary; so contemporary, in fact, that frequently the first time it has received audience is in that very room – it is the attendees’ own.

The society goes back at least as far as 1956, and some of its members have gone on to achieve notable literary success (former members include Adam Thorpe, James Fenton – even the politician John Redwood). Its guests have included authors of the highest rank: Auden, Pinter and Murdoch have all attended. The Society is named for an old member of the college, John Florio (1553? – 1625), known best for Italian translations and whose work Shakespeare used as a source for ‘The Tempest’. The notion of translation is peculiarly apt: the society takes pride in, and frequently achieves, clarity of expression. This poetic imperative lends itself, so far at least, to a high quality of poetic expression from all submitters.

I may be the exception to that rule. I write poetry infrequently and the idea of ‘creating’ is a terrifying one. Too often I fear my ideas might be too shabby, maybe even too clichéd to bear any kind of scribal effort. I did, however, produce a poem for Florio this time around (this Sunday). It’s not published here – I’m not sure it will ever again see light of day – but it was immensely worthwhile to elicit a response from others whose poetical abilities far exceed my own. And I’m not just talking about that third-year English student who’s notoriously bright; alongside we pretentious, high-minded undergrads, the evening is frequented by Magdalen’s Emeritus Fellow, John Fuller: he is a renowned poet in his own right, and to have your own work critiqued by a poet (and former tutor) of such acuity is an immensely thought-provoking experience. To be able to criticise his poetry, most of which is unpublished, is also a powerful leveller – first and far-too-many years share in a unitive anonymity where ‘contextualising’ a work is an impossibility.

This anonymity is a tool I should stress more clearly: the discussion requires no admission of authorship. Katie Mennis, a first year Classics & English student, attests, “I would not normally let just anyone read something I’d written – in Florio, I don’t have to worry. The atmosphere is relaxed enough that I’m not afraid just to send something in – and no one knows it’s me. It’s also a great learning experience; it usually points out where I could be syntactically stricter, and so helps my writing overall.” Attitudes like this are, I’d expect, common across those who go.

Each week is loosely grouped around a theme. This is almost invariably ignored, unless it can somehow be related to what a poet wanted to talk about anyway. However, the poems do share something in common: they ache to be read, and read aloud. As no one author has any claim over any poem, each time someone elects to read, the poem is lent an oral depth which transfers naturally into discussion. It is this discursive element which makes Florio so powerful – it is more like a conversation – the poems merely starting points.

Day Festival

Roseanne Finn
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Day Festival

Models: Ella Cattle / Izzy Taylor

Makeup & Hair: Brothers Oxford

Styling: Roseanne Finn

Creative directors: Roseanne Finn / Aini Putkonen

Photography: Jasmine B Photography

Ray’s Chapter & Worse: 2nd week

Ben Ray
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Ray’s Chapter & Worse: 2nd week

This week I had a revelation. Whilst cycling back from rowing, just before I was due to go into the Choffices (Cherwell Offices for the uninitiated) to edit the paper, and planning my review of a play I’d seen the previous night to be published tomorrow, it suddenly hit me. Since coming to Oxford, I have been imbued with magical powers. Maybe it was passed on to me through that most mysterious of ceremonies, Matriculation (if you didn’t drink the fresh blood from the skull of the Tab you’re not properly Oxonian), or maybe I’ve just inherited it through osmosis by living here. As well as struggling with a world class degree, I am also juggling the positions of Treasurer of OUCB, Deputy Editor for Cherwell, writing weekly blogs, rowing in the college boat club, publishing a college pamphlet, being Lord High Master of the Croquet, the statue of Bodley in the Bodleian Library every Thursday, and the Vice-President Majestic Wizard of Iffley (work out which of those is false for yourself). I’m not trying to show off, I’m merely highlighting a glaringly obvious fact: that Oxford encourages us to take far too much on, in far too short a space of time.

Oxford is, you may have noticed, a truly beautiful and fascinating place, full of equally beautiful and fascinating people. There are so many opportunities, so many chances to make friends and network, to try out and hone new skills. You can prove yourself through work, and to commit and become part of a team outside of studies in a myriad of ways. For those of us with exams this term, the temptation is to shut yourself away in a library and surrender your life for that gleaming mirage of a First- and for those of us without exams, there is the chance to fill up the diary with exciting commitments. With so many diversions at every footfall, how could you think to waste even a single second here?

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why Philip Larkin can write better poetry than me. He can stop and think- he remembers to breathe. As for me- well, after dashing up to the Choffices and desperately proofreading articles for four hours, I was sentient only enough to drag myself home to bed. I had no time to think over the day, to reflect on who I’d met or what I’d done- I can’t even coherently plan for the week ahead, as I end up throwing myself out of bed each morning to impale myself on the next commitment. That’s not what poetry is about- and quite frankly, I don’t think it’s how one should ‘do’ Oxford. It’s just not humanly possible to fit it all in- the degree, the Blue, the social life. Reading this poem, ‘The Trees’ by Larkin, reminds me that sometimes it’s important to step back, and to let yourself think- only then will you be able to process things, let alone write poetry. As Larkin writes, ‘begin afresh, afresh, afresh’- maybe I won’t go to the AGM of the Majestic Wizards of Iffley tomorrow. Maybe I’ll just go for a walk instead.

The Trees by Philip Larkin

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

Passengers left blinded by loud Ryanair decor

Christian Bell
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Passengers left blinded by loud Ryanair decor

Waking up at 4am and trekking across the country to Stansted is always a bittersweet feeling. Yes, you’re going on holiday but at the same time you’ve only had four hours of sleep and are fed up with the cheerful taxi driver’s incessant attempts to make small talk with you. As if this wasn’t bad enough, you then arrive at an airport.

Everything, except for the glaring billboards, is grey; the floor, the walls and the face of the airport security man asking if you have “any liquids or gels”. Your sheer exhaustion is reaching its peak when all of a sudden a burly man feels you up just because you forgot to take off your belt. They poke around in your bag with what looks like a magic wand but instead of pulling out a rabbit they conjure up some nail scissors and then throw them away. Finally, its over and you make your way through to the terminal to try and buy a coffee. Except you can’t buy a coffee, you can only buy a frappuccino, triple shot, skinny, flexible, rotund latte made with the tears of fucking orphans. Okay, so the frappuccino is actually pretty good and you finally find somewhere to sit down and flick to the ‘off the beaten track’ section of your Lonely Planet guide that other tourists have obviously never read.

Just when you have finally recovered from the traumatic ordeal that was fighting your way through the airport you are hit with yet another discomfort utterly worse than anything that had come before: the colour scheme of Ryanair. It’s almost as if they are trying to trick you – as when you enter the plane you are greeted with an acceptable undulant dark blue that is neither inspiring nor offensive. However, once you pass the first seat the horror manifests itself in the brittle plastic sheaths that shroud the cramped seats and it is inescapable. Yellow is everywhere, in your face, up your nose – it’s practically undressing you. You would never normally wear Ray Bans inside but desperate times call for desperate measures.

To add insult to injury you realise they’ve ripped the seat pocket out as well just so they can offend you with more yellow. Ironically, they’ll be the ones regretting that decision when you can’t find a sick-bag to throw up in. Seriously, who is Ryanair’s interior designer? Or did they just ask a child to name two colours and then went with that. They’re Irish. They could have gone with a nice palatable green but instead decided to bombard you with a yellow that is brighter than Ra himself.

To escape the yellow, you decide to glance at the menu and are shocked to see that a bottle of water costs two quid and a cheese and pickle sandwich is hitting the five pound mark. If the colour scheme hadn’t already put you off your food this menu most certainly will; not only is the quality of the food terrible but it also costs an arm and a leg.

All annoyances aside you gradually find yourself drifting off to sleep, and although you’ll probably have nightmares, it’s a deserved rest after an arduous day. But with a jolt you are awoken; the plane has landed! It was not exactly stress-free but you can now at least think about enjoying your holiday. Just as you’re beginning to forgive Ryanair, your senses are subjected to torture once again when the not-so-bad-landing is followed up by a screeching trumpet fanfare and ripples of applause. If you had had your eyes closed you might have guessed that you’d just gone to see your eight-year-old son’s orchestra, but alas it was just awful ending to an awful flight. Next time I’m flying Easy Jet.

Review: Hush – a cat and mouse fight to the death

Louise Howland
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Review: Hush – a cat and mouse fight to the death

THREE STARS

When a streamlined one-hour 20-minute picture can fully transport its audience into a situation, even one as brutal and unusual as the heroine Maddie’s, you know the film is doing what it’s supposed to.

Hush is Mike Flanagan’s impressive follow-up to his mind-bending but ultimately unsatisfying Occulus (2013). The premise is simple enough: a young woman is subjected to the home invasion of a mask-wearing knife wielding maniac. But here’s the hook – the victim is deaf. Queue a cat-and-mouse fight-to-the-death with an abundance of tension.

Home-invasion in horror is a sub-genre that seems to have been banging its head against a brick wall for a long time. Directors have tried to innovate but to little avail. All they’ve really offered is an assembly line of the same narrative in slightly tweaked contexts.

But this hasn’t stopped audiences coming back for more. Insidious was the highest grossing horror film of 2015 and the Sinister trilogy has been incredibly successful on a commercial level. Yet the appetite of the horror fan for fresh, contributions to this sub-genre has not been truly satiated.

Hush, however, may be just thing the horror community is looking for. It gives people something much more conceptually stimulating and consistently thrilling. This is probably the most exciting addition to the Blumhouse conveyor belt of low-budget horror, a production studio responsible for the likes of Paranormal Activity and Sinister. Whilst the material is not the most original – a similar premise is seen in Wait Until Darkness (1967) – it provides the director (Mike Flanagan) and writer (Katie Siegal, who also plays the protagonist, Maddie) a plethora of interesting directions that they exploit from the outset.

The film also negotiates established horror conventions. The most striking subversion of trope is in the protagonist herself who doesn’t fit the stereotypical female victim. She’s a real person figuring out how to stay alive and outwit the villain. Her formidable desire to survive makes for a gripping viewing experience and a refreshing, modern take on the damsel in distress stock character. The film also pays tribute to Michael Haneke’s Funny Games in that the director knows exactly what the audience will be screaming at their screens and when they’ll be screaming it. It gives the film a wry self-consciousness that distinguishes it from most mainstream horror.

Hush is not the best horror you’ll ever see, nor will it be the best film you’ll see this year. But Netflix subscribers will find it a thoroughly entertaining, fast-paced and ultimately intelligent film that will probably thrill more than chill.

Easy Kitchen-Free Recipes

Isabella Cullen
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Easy Kitchen-Free Recipes

First year at university can be hard. Away from home, clueless freshers are forced to fend for themselves, getting to grips with the unusual customs of Oxford, engaging in painful small talk with other newbies and formulating sentences in tutorials when their eyelids are visibly drooping. Meals can become something of a chore; the temptation to avoid hall, where there is an expectation to socialise and appear presentable, mounts higher as the term goes on. Unfortunately, not all of us are blessed with kitchens, so these simple recipes will enable you to immerse yourself fully in the lifestyle of a hermit. With the humble kettle, iron or toastie maker, fine dining is not as out of reach as you might think.

Vietnamese Summer Rolls

Ingredients: rice paper (buy at Lung Wah Chong Chinese Supermarket – look out for it en route to Wahoo), 1 packet vermicelli noodles, 1 packet of prawns (OR surplus pork from Mission Bur- rito since the meat to rice ratio is a bit absurd), 1 packet shredded carrot, lettuce, coriander, sweet chilli sauce, soy sauce, kettle.

  1. Lay out all your ingredients and an empty plate on which you will construct
    the rolls
  2. Boil the kettle and pour the water intoalargebowl
  3. Soak one sheet of rice paper until soft
  4. Place on the plate and quickly blot with paper towel if necessary
  5. Pile on all your ingredients
  6. Fold and roll into a mini burrito shape. Serve with more sweet chilli or soy sauce

Heated falafel wraps

Not even going to pretend that these are nicer than the wraps at El Mexicana but they will prove how creative you are.
Ingredients: 1 packet of burrito wraps, 1 tub of hummus, 1 packet of falafels, 1 packet cherry tomatoes, 1 packet coriander, lettuce, 1 packet halloumi, tin foil, iron

1. Chop up all the tomatoes, coriander, lettuce and halloumi

2. Lay a burrito wrap down on one half of a sheet of foil and fold the other half on top of it to sandwich the wrap inside

3. Iron the burrito
4. Place all the ingredients inside
5. Wrap it up in the same way as you did for the summer rolls and then wrap the foil tightly around it so nothing spills out
6. Iron it again – particularly aim to heat up the halloumi. Remove foil and serve
NB: The heating of the wrap may make it seem that I have merely added unnecessary complica- tions to an ordinary cold meal. However, the use of an iron elevates this dish by softening the hal- loumi and validating your decision to bring an iron to uni in the first place, since your clothes are rarely washed let alone ironed for the 8 week long duration of your stay in Oxford.

Vegetarian Brunch

Like a classic fry up but without meat because toastie makers rarely reach temperatures high enough to make that a safe option.
Ingredients: 1 packet mushrooms, 1 packet cherry tomatoes, 1 egg, butter, sliced bread, coriander, toastie maker.

  1. Turn toastie maker to the highest temperature and put a knob of butter on one half of it Crack an egg into the dipped plate of the toastie maker

2. Close the lid as much as possible, without cracking the yolk. You may need to prop the lid in place

3. Leave for about 3 mins (assuming your toastie maker is as ineffective as mine)

4. Add a knob of butter to the other half of the toastie maker. Add chopped up mushrooms and coriander

5. Close the toastie maker again and leave for 2/3 more minutes

6. Chop up tomatoes. Add these to the mush- rooms and leave for 2/3 more minutes – the egg should still be cooking away

7. Put a piece of bread on top of the mushroom/ tomato mixture – this will allow all the tomato juice to soak into the bread and taste yum.

8. Hopefully the egg will have cooked by now – check this very carefully Remove egg and fully close toastie maker to toast the upper half of the bread for a few minutes

9. Put everything on a plate. Serve with more coriander to make yourself feel fancy.

Bon appetit.

Pub Review: Wetherspoons

Thomas Little
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Pub Review: Wetherspoons

One of the benefits of being a linguist is the rich wealth of opportunities to travel and to see what the world holds be- yond these green and pleasant lands. Based on my brief travels I will not deny that the food in Italy is better, Germany works smoother and that given the choice between a cold February night in Oxford and sunnier climes… you get the picture. Despite what Nigel Farage may have you believe, there are some things that are better abroad.

This brings us to the subject of this article, my beloved Wetherspoons. Any Brit abroad – from the Hong Kong expat to the trashed lad in Magaluf – will tell you that there is just nothing quite like a good English pub. The decor, the line of ales, the welcoming fire smouldering 11 months of the year… there are no rivals. And while it’s true that The Four Candles may not be to everyone’s taste it certainly does tick the majority of boxes. From the buoyant atmosphere to the cheap beer, sometimes all that will do is a ‘Spoons sesh’, and this Oxford gem will not let you down.

Let me tell you why. Everyone these days is grasping for aconcept, an aspiration to set himself or herself apart from the pack.The trouble with this is that during their desperate efforts to do precisely that they become even more anonymous; through trying to be individual and edgy they become so much blander. How many pubs in Oxford market themselves as older and more historic than- what seems like time itself? How many bombard you with constant invitations to weekly pub quizzes? How many brag about the biggest and best selection of craft beers? Too many is probably the answer to these questions, is it not?

What I’m trying to point out is that Spoons wants nothing to do with this fruitless arms race.

Zilch. Nada. It’s just Spoons. The Four Candles is no different to any of its Spoons brothers, dependent and consistent. That is not to say that it is without its charms. For a start, there is no music. Maybe I’ve become an old man since arriving here but nothing beats conversation, and when you look around the stylishly lit interior I have to say that there are more people pissing themselves laughing than just about any pub I’ve ever been to. The place is big too, meaning there’s always room for a big group and making it the perfect place for a pre crewdate stop-over, or for some Dutch courage before hitting the Park End cheese floor. I’m sure that most people reading this will be aware of the Spoons phenomenon, but sometimes you just have to be reminded of those little things in life. Go show Spoons some love.

The Oxonian Dandy

Dante OKeefe
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The Oxonian Dandy

With Trinity collections a definite thing of the past, as an auburn sun sets once more over the rusty rooves of our handsome city and the teasing breeze tickles the sandstone bricks, every young gent asks himself the same question: Is it too cold to unship my quarter-length chino shorts?

Last week, we looked at the ways to best stand out with colour. This week, we examine not so much the ways in which we tint our outfit, but rather the ways to assemble it. Sadly, not every outfit can be practical for the modern chap – and thus the above question – much to the benefit of wardrobe liberty, becomes redundant. Gone are the days when the waffle greatcoat would be neglected on the coat-hanger during a particularly fiery August. We live and dress in a progressive age. One must not spurn one’s Geox sandals just because it’s below freezing, and, similarly, the choice of a mackintosh must not be merely motivated by the promise of a shower: this week, we break down the oppressive traditions of weather-driven dressing.

The true Oxonian Dandy will pick his outfit irrespective of the weather, and, for those looking to free their style from its meteorological confines, layering is a concept that must be at the forefront of the mind when stood musing in front of the wardrobe before a 9am. Don’t leave behind your scarf if it complements the Givenchy turtleneck you happen to have chosen just because the weatherman has prescribed the factor 50.

Though we interact with the world at present, nonetheless we base these same undertakings on events of the past. A poignant reflection of this would be to enact a glancing twist on that 90s staple of the short-sleeve T atop a contrasting long-sleeve. Shake it up by instead donning a ‘beater. Remember what I said last week about colour! I would advise a lilac lavender combination, here. Or, if you wanted to give your countenance a sporty undertone, dig out the rash vest from the catacombs of the commode.

Another look of the future (one to watch out for on the late spring catwalks in Milan) is the twinning of spray-on skinny jeans and a truly bulging puffer. You want to look as top-heavy as you possibly can. You aren’t going to be able to achieve the required appearance of wadding without packing out the under-layers: I’m talking vests, at least one jumper, a fleece and maybe a sweatshirt if you’re really going for that seam-splitting rotundness.

Despite my eternal misgivings on the constraints weather imposes upon fashion, since the summer is drawing ever nearer, I will offer a quick final word or two on lawn-party chic. The most important forethought of a successful outfit for such an occasion is most certainly making sure your top layer matches the sludgy hue of the drink you’ll most certainly be knocking back: Pimms. With a mud-brown or toffee cable jumper, you’ll never worry about the inevitable spillage. If you’re looking to emulate the smoothness of melted caramel, put a few cocktail sticks in your pocket for skewering strawberries.

Next week we’ll be trying to bridge the gaps between smart and casual.

 

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