Thursday, 5 May 2016

Tony Wood

Tony Wood. Local superstar hair salon who have renovated their basement into an incredible ‘colour factory’. With exposed brickwork, more quirky trinkets than your grandmas house and huge 6 foot tv screens, You can sit and relax in style while your colour develops. So Dumpster Design embarked on a two dress collaboration with them, one dress created entirely from Tony Wood and Colour factory flyers, the other from an incredible eco cloth used to dye the hair.

The making process was an interesting one to say the least, covering various bits of my studio, house and garden in amazing, yet extremely permanent hair dye. But that’s the boring bit and feels like ages ago so any recount I give with be monotonous, dull and probably laced with lies. However shoot day was yesterday, so that I give a good run down on…

I started off shoot day with a total mare. While walking from mine to collect the dresses a huge van did a tidy parallel park on the other side of the road. I made eye contact with the driver, like Daymmmmm son, that was a sweet ass parking maneuver. He totally got my feels and I carried on my merry way. But then, THEN, as I was arriving at my destination, that very van pulled up and cornered me. He wound down the window and was like ‘hey’, I was panic stricken, this guy (who looked like he was crafted by angels) had followed me all the way from the co op, a little stalkery but I was flattered.  it was sunny, I had yeezus infiltrating my ear holes and every cell in my body and I was faced with this god like parallel parking king.

Im very happy in a relationship, so I don’t know what came over me, but by the end of our conversation i had given him my number and was about ready to elope. He was talking about getting into spaces smaller than thata, he was a property developer, he had a beard, I totally crumbled, he asked if he could have my number and for all I cared he could have had my first born, a kidney, whatever he wanted, at that point I would have slayed a goat in his honor.

Then I got into the shade of my mums house and realized what the hell id done. I immediately texted my boyfriend and told him id happily offered up my number to a potential suitor, that I was overwhelmed, it was sunny, I was sweaty from the walk and I got a bit Beyonce for a second. Anyway, so to say I started the day flustered was an understatement. 

Then I had the always amusing challenge of getting the dresses in the car. Alex my marketing assistant was on hand to help, and somehow, with a lot of shimmying and only a slight bit of tearing we managed to get them in the car and to the studios with a fair amount of ease.

The dream team were reunited with a few extras from the tony wood salon. They sent along a stylist so that the hair could be perfect on set, however with in seconds id persuaded her to get her kit off and jump in a dress. This girl was stunning and it would have been an injustice to art if she wasn’t photographed. She also had amazing pastel pink hair, which after all, was the whole point of the dress collaboration.

Then while titting about doing stupid stuff like setting my face as one of the models phone backgrounds while she was on set so couldn’t stop me, parallel park man texted me! Once again I totally lost the plot and was about to reply suggesting a date/marriage/babies, when I got a grip and remembered that I am in fact very in love with another person. What the hell was wrong with me?! Clearly im so easy that all you need to get me into bed is good parking technique and a stalker like attitude.

Some how we ended up taking over the studio next to us as well and were double timing the dresses like some amazing photography Siamese twin. All in all very good shoot and relatively stress free apart for my minor indiscretion.  Huge thanks to everyone involved. 

 (Photography Ramona Beiu)

 (Photography Luke Barter)

(Photography Luke Barter)

Friday, 11 March 2016


So you may or may not know I went back to school this year. Id done a few years in Manchester then dropped out, grew Dumpster into the little gem it is, and then thought id try my hand at uni again. However I did the classic daisy thing.. and once again got bitten on the ass by a smug post about making it past 2nd year...

(my blog post two years ago)

Yeh, well I didn’t even make it to second year. I deferred because dumpster is an addiction and however much I try and better my skills, the bastard keeps calling me back.

So in the short stint of a year I did do at uni I found out there was a brief to do with paper in the second year. Obviously, paper my jam. And I wanted to do it, however sticking around for a whole other year just to do this brief seemed foolish. So I got my sly on and found a way to be eligible to enter anyway.

Its been so refreshing making a dress for myself for the first time in ages. I didn’t have the pressure of meeting a clients spec and also the dread of them paying me a bomb and getting it wrong. I could do what I liked and it has been amazing. The brief is to do with a paper brand named Fedrigoni, who are opening a new store in Covent garden. Fedrigoni are a shit hot Italian paper brand, so I latched on to this and the new location of the store and created an Italian Opera inspired dress. Fit for a La Traviata pop up paper performance in the center of Covent garden.

So I got folding and fanning. it was the first time id used just paper to make a dress in years and HOT DAMN, I forgot how much a paper cut can sever you. However I found some dead jazzy plasters with bumble bees on.. so you know, silver linings.

The dress only took a couple days to knock up then it was photoshoot time. It was Bruce’s maiden voyage and he came through like a trooper, along with a surprisingly girthy boot.

The dream team was back up and running, this time around my model came equipped with baby. This thing was so damn cute I’m considering making it a must have for all future models. Considering we had 3 different backgrounds to shoot, a limited amount of time, a baby on set and a six foot model in a dress made for someone 5’7, the whole thing went surprisingly well. I felt like one of those aborigine women with baby strapped to their head/back/limbs. I was jetting around art directing, mending things, gluing things all the while cradling this baby. I even popped to the café downstairs to microwave its bottle of milk in between a lighting change. However I think I was a bit big for my boots there as he then spewed on me after having it, white shirt and all. However its me and i would probably make more of a mess left to my own devices.

So there we have it. Beaut model, dream photographer...and me.. smelling like baby sick.

Nailed it.

Thursday, 3 March 2016


One of my first twits of 2016 was this…

The ultimate self brag about how im gonna make 2016 my bitch, and my company car would assist me in the doing so.

Well It turns out February had other ideas for me… Within a week I went from Ballin’ like a G, to Ballin’ my eyes out like a toddler.

On the first Monday I was struck with some fairly major health concerns, a bit of a blow for any hot young twenty something, however nothing that me and my can-do (sung like the childrens shampoo advert) attitude couldn’t tackle...But then BANG (quite literally), the second Monday I was in hospital after writing off my car. Broken rib, whiplash, sprained wrist and a total inability to move let alone fold. Meaning I then had to cancel a wedding dress studio shoot and along with that, the London Bridal Show on the third Monday.

What a bloody balls up ay! Nothing like some broken bones, major pay outs and some huge missed work opportunities to make it feel like someone was on a Daisy Sabotage mission. At one point I thought it may be worth writing a list of all those id wronged in the past to try and whittle down who could be the culprit.

Anyway all in all im saying up yours to Feb, and roll on to March, starting with the new company car. RIP Sally Swift, Long Live Bruceyyyyyyy the beetle, equipped with new Dumpster Design graphics (and me unable to stand still long enough to pose for a pic).

Im back on top baby, my fingers have never felt so nimble and i've begun embarking on a La Traviata inspired Italian opera dress for an awards event at the end of month. 

Friday, 26 February 2016

Bikers Love Babes

I’ve had a half written blog on my laptop ever since the NEC bike show (in October, Cough) and after a meeting last week the fear has been re-installed within me. I got openly laughed at in disbelief by a social media manager for not knowing how to log into my own company’s linkedin page… Why the heck cant running a business just be cutting and sticking ay? thats the only bloody bit im good at anyhows. 

So here it is, Four months late but so totally worth it.
Spoiler alert: it involves a missing tooth and George Michael.

First problem of Day One: Getting to the NEC Birmingham. As always when doing anything to do with transporting paper dresses the heavens where pouring harder than Niagara, making an already hard task near on impossible. Its begun to sort of feel like a personalised ‘up yours Daisy’ from God. However the big man was on my side when he graced me with an unemployed, burly brother and his love of driving. So I did my best bodge job strapping the (now damp) dresses to the inside of the van and off we went. Rachael, Dumpster Marketing Exec, Rob, Brother and van lover, and Me, Leader of the gang (Yes that’s a Garry Glitter reference).

Of course within 30 mins I was sticky, covered in peach juice after going on a hunt for snacks and being far too cocky with a fruit pot fit for 3 year olds, easy pull tab my asshole. Driving to Birmingham was like driving into the apocalypse, you could actually see the sky get darker, the mood grew somber the further we progressed up north. I wasn’t sure whether we were going to a bike show or to our last day on earth.

After a solid 4 hours driving the peach juice was now a dried crust and for sure added an element of mystery to my outfit. So I embraced it and off loaded the three dresses with a fruity cool in front of the heads of Suzuki Aftersales.

I got inside the NEC arena and it was n.u.t.s. There was a bloomin’ 5 meter graphic of my best mate on the back wall. They also had the Suzuki Moto GP team race truck on the stand (which could easily fit at least 5 small families plus pets). So after setting up the dresses and mending all the bits that had fallen off in transit, I snuck into the team truck to, well put quite frankly, touch some expensive stuff and see if I could steal a lanyard. Swear down it was nicer than any house ive ever been in. Like on pimp my ride when Xzibit puts 982734 plasma TVs in the back of a ford KA, Leather errrrywhere. I felt like Tay Swift on tour.

Turns out that all the setting up and prep for the next day was done by 4. So myself and Rob chucked Rach and Kealey (Dumpster account manager) in the back of the van and ventured to our gaff for the night. Forgot the van didn’t have any windows in the back, and slid the door open to find two very nauseous, pale looking people. How illegal immigrants all pile into the back of a lorry I have no idea, props to them.

I then got my lowly spinster vibe on in the travel lodge. Felt like a divorced housewife on my own in a kingsize bed at 5 in the afternoon. So i did what every good divorced housewife would do… had a nap and then went to get pissed at the bar in the car park. Peachy Keens (legitimate name) was a dream, only got better when we found out George Michael, THE George Michael was performing there that night. The 80yr old bar lady assured us that tickets were selling fast and to put our names down soon...The list had 2 names on it and im sure one of them was George himself.

Peachy Keens was a bizarre establishment, although being surprisingly full for a Thursday night in a travel lodge car park, the bar lady looked at me as if id been smoking the reefer when I asked for a bag of crisps. Apparently peachy keens ‘only serves nuts’.  I was like daymnnn girl, yo feisty for an OAP.  Anyway, after a chugging competition between Rob and Kealey (Rob bossed her), 3 bottles of wine and Rachel losing her tooth then flinging it across the floor by accident, we ended up pissed in McDonalds at 7 then back in bed watching im a celeb by 8 #playaplya

(Back in bed, fully clothed and quite clearly hammered)

Whether I had a functioning team for the day ahead was questionable but as far as I was concerned I was done, the dresses were there safely. Zero shits given about anything or anyone else.

Kick in Day two and by the time I woke up my account manager had been back and forth to the station twice picking up the models and then the MUA, Rachael had showered and was feeding them, and I, well I was in bed…hungover. Just goes to show having a big team really does have its benefits sometimes. I went and said hello to everyone then pretended that I needed to do important things like press releases, when really I went back to my room to watch married at first sight USA version (Side note: Would highly recommend it, young, naïve, clueless love is just the sweetest).

Due to the Dumpster Design Dream team everything was bizarrely on schedule.
- Got the models loaded into the cars and said our fair wells to Peachy Keens,
- Got to the NEC (apart form missing the turning first time around because Kealey and I were chinwagging about how heated seats make it feel like you’ve wee’d yourself in the most delightful way)
- Got the event passes and felt like part of the bloody NEC mafia
- Got the models watered and fed and then…
bish bash bosh, within the hour they were dressed and on the display plinth.

All fairly simple apart from it soon became apparent that a Japanese changing screen in the middle of a bike show doesn’t defer passers-by from looking like you would expect it too, in fact it attracts them… with one man even poking his head over the top to find myself groping a topless model with one hand while trying to straddle her in bike panels with the other. Probably splooshed his pants it was so close to his sex fantasy.

There was a swarm of press wherever the dresses went, TV crews, motoGP team managers, everyone bloody loved the things. Even the hairy bikers came over and praised the creations. It was very clear that bikers love babes. And turns out babes dressed IN bikes… well, that’s every riders wet dream.