tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611684499081229202011-12-02T03:14:05.054ZAs the Actress said to the Bishop...ACTING, SEX, FOOD, LONDON and Size 0isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.comBlogger1661100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-7343020953563489562011-06-29T09:54:00.000+01:002011-06-29T09:54:31.705+01:00Back in 10 minutesHello. Hello?
I know it's been a while.
I've been kindda busy.
All will be revealed soon on my sister blog "A girl's gotta eat!"
See you soon...isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-89030745680746704822011-05-17T20:02:00.001+01:002011-05-17T20:11:07.316+01:00Now put your clothes back onAs you'll already know if you read the last entry (If you haven't, now's your chance: As the Actress Said to the Bishop...; "Now take your clothes off". No one will ever know that you missed it first time round. Except for me of course.) I was called in to re-audition in my bathing suit last Friday. Lucky me. My agent who is nothing if not thorough reissued the casting breakdown. After briefly isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-46578845220044315182011-05-12T19:36:00.000+01:002011-05-13T21:26:31.492+01:00Now take your clothes offAnother week, another audition.
The call from my agent came in late on Tuesday evening. These late calls are never a good sign. It usually means the job is being rushed through and that somebody or possibly several individuals are not being given enough time to do things properly. None of this ever bodes well for the actors involved being as they are at the bottom of the proverbial food chain,isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-30477379910395571352011-04-29T16:35:00.001+01:002011-04-29T16:45:51.321+01:00It's hot and crazy in the kitchen - the sequelWell what do you know? As if to prove the point that you can never tell with auditions, my agent called to tell me I had landed a recall following last Friday's disastrous casting session. "The problem is... they won't pay you a recall fee." When have any of them ever paid me a recall fee? "That's fine." "Oh and they've pencilled you for the shoot..." Pencil shmencil...
I'm kindda cranky this isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-15953919436300503932011-04-22T17:07:00.000+01:002011-04-22T17:07:00.415+01:00It’s hot and crazy in the kitchenThe casting breakdown for Thursday’s audition read: ‘male or female, a chef, someone people would be a bit scared of but with a warm side as well... Must have characterful face.’ So I thought: Monica (from Friends). (Although I’m far closer in type to Monica than I could ever hope to be of the boys' favourite Rachel, let me remind you that it was Monica who bedded Magnum PI and if I’d been in isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-19470137984802171552011-04-18T10:12:00.000+01:002011-04-18T10:12:41.715+01:00Pencil skirts and stilettos
IG as BP by Oscar Grillo
I received the casting breakdown for another commercial. It read: "Business woman, slightly OTT, wears designer suits. Please wear a suit to the audition.” I thought “oh boy” because I didn’t really like the sound of her. This is not a good thing. I’m an actor not a critic: my job is to understand, not judge. (At least not from isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-71074185682597319502011-04-15T17:24:00.002+01:002011-04-15T17:39:54.680+01:00Total RecallSo I got a recall! (See previous entry for the full story.) A RECALL! In the acting world, getting a recall (or call back) is exciting: it's concrete feedback that you did something right at the first audition and that the casting director/advertising agency/client liked you. It's a marvellous feeling. Even better than getting pencilled (which for those of you who've just joined or those who isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-39474470471040606192011-04-12T18:58:00.005+01:002011-04-13T14:20:39.245+01:00oooh la la gimme that French feeling...The day didn’t have the most auspicious of starts. If I were to slow down my brain process it went something like this: Wham! Blackness. Shock. Heavy. I’m dead. Pain.Ow! Whazzat? Head. More pain.
Clasping both hands to the top of my head I instinctively moved away from the source of danger and lay flat on the living room floor. The sound of rushed footsteps and he hovered into view. "Are you okisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-57555853398982591312011-04-09T10:16:00.001+01:002011-04-09T17:32:28.285+01:00The little madam and the key to everlasting happinessBefore I launch into anything else, I want to acknowledge the absolutely wonderful weather that London is currently blessed with. You have to see it to believe it: it's warm, it's sunny, it's lasted for more than one day, and there's no rain in the forecast unless you live in Scotland where it's been raining solid for the past week. My Paul Smith sunglasses are getting a real workout.
Earlier isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-60115273335957800392011-04-02T21:30:00.001+01:002011-04-03T12:39:56.593+01:00George Clooney's petAs I discarded the vegetable peels (I was making wild rabbit stew) I observed - and not for the first time - that a pet Vietnamese Pot Bellied pig would come in handy as a friendly eco-alternative to the bin. (I don't have the luxury of a compost heap as I live in a flat.) Why? (Why do I want a pig not why do I live in a flat.) I don't know why! George Clooney - who's rather made a success of hisisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-27079104594405683682011-03-27T18:05:00.003+01:002011-03-28T13:42:31.450+01:00I love a good shoe fetish!Yesterday afternoon, we went to see a show. I was able to enjoy it properly because neither I nor anyone else I knew was in it. When you're an actor, doing a show is easy, but going to see someone else's show? You have no idea. It's like trying to navigate the Titanic through the eye of a needle, whilst riding a unicycle.
Consider this: if you think a show was really bad (or worse: average) you isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-84925138984591941862011-03-25T19:09:00.001Z2011-03-26T07:58:03.379ZThis is so 21st century...When I was a little girl a long long time ago... Hey! You, at the back! I heard that.
Let me start again, when I was a little girl... Whenever a famous person would die, I would experience a delayed sense of loss. Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Grace Kelly: I didn't know who they were! I only got to know them after the fact through the retrospective programmes on television (and yes in the early isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-39337678544944766392011-03-22T16:51:00.000Z2011-03-22T16:51:40.785ZThe Battle of the PrincessesDon't worry, it's not a real fight, it's not even the title of some new reality show on MTV (although I can just about picture it, can't you?). It's about the qualities that go into making some women into 'icons'. Are some types more successful than others?
Remember that game "rock-paper-scissors"? Well it's not really relevant here other than to demonstrate that success is relative. So forget isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-7851108547905876232011-03-18T18:49:00.002Z2011-03-23T10:05:47.067ZCome a bit closer, my Puff Adder wants to say hello...I’m not good when I’m hungry. Or hormonal. Or both. The Puff-Adder, as a good friend of mine christened it, is my small, green and deadly Familiar, with a lightning strike (and telescopic fangs). According to this same friend – who is still very much alive and kicking no doubt saved by his well honed survival instincts and some life saving tips from his ex-Special Forces mates – Puff Adder is isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-14371858488598361072011-03-15T20:34:00.003Z2011-03-24T09:41:08.750ZThe fine art of spanking...Hypothetically speaking (of course), would you rather be spanked or do the spanking? I figure that - either way - it's going to hurt. And I don't know about you but the palm of my hand carries a lot less padding than what the French call mon derriere (to be precise, the French spell it with a descending accent from left to right on the second "e" but blogspot won't let me do accents).
What's isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-81181539152534702232011-03-13T20:00:00.002Z2011-03-22T15:24:17.569ZOf pussycats, parrots and counting beansLately, I've taken to interacting with imaginary cats. Sorry Smoke, let me rephrase that: with cats that aren't there. (Don't be put off by the image of the parrot. I'll come back to that.)
It started a few weeks back at an audition where I had to mime a cat. (As in miming my interaction with an imaginary cat as opposed to pretending to be a cat which is - in some ways - easier but has no place isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-46837790479341110952011-03-11T22:23:00.003Z2011-03-22T15:24:43.810ZEight Point NineAfter a night of disturbed dreams in which I kept losing track of time and arriving late at the exam centre (I had those same dreams last week) I indulged myself and my study guide (the book, not a person) with a nice soak in the bath (chapter 1 - it's a long one) and then shifted to the red couch (chapters 2 and 3). I only paused this morning's last minute revisions for my Financial Regulation isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-12300294414748284502011-03-08T19:32:00.003Z2011-04-10T12:51:43.583+01:00Small is Beautiful and the Playboy AuditionCatapult is the word that comes to mind to describe this morning's start to the day. With it being Spring and all, we've been using the rising sun as our natural alarm clock because it's so much nicer waking up on your own terms at 7am. But this morning it failed to wake us up. I was having a delicious cat like ooh-look-
-it's-morning-I'm-looking-forward-to-breakfast stir when I glanced down at isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-4064253367086262762011-03-06T18:01:00.002Z2011-03-06T18:57:39.324ZGaga Love vs.The Cult of the SkinnyI'm not well. Really? Tell me something I don't know. Seriously, I'm in one of those moods... Capital C-O-N-T-R-O-L.
It spells trouble.
Revisiting old territory is so tedious, don't you think? Like finding yourself back in some town you'd promised yourself you would never set foot in again. But I was born this way Baby... anorexic episodes and all and despite several years of strong recoveryisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-44179338391505799032011-03-04T19:37:00.001Z2011-03-04T19:40:16.454ZWelcome She Writer Blogger Ball Redux!A warm welcome to fellow She Writes members! Hope you enjoy your visit...
Click here to return to The magic bookshelf...
isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-58954108725027348202011-03-04T14:02:00.004Z2011-04-08T16:50:55.101+01:00Marginal Fail, Nul Point! and Ringing in the Changes
I might as well live in Antartica. Apart from the fact that it would probably be marginally warmer than London at the moment, it seems that - with a few notable exceptions - most of my social interactions this week have been conducted via the computer.
I'm not complaining. No. I'm moaning! Only because today happens to be a very special day. It's my father's birthday. And my birthday too. A isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-56250603287724505552011-03-01T18:24:00.056Z2011-04-10T12:58:23.164+01:00Up a creek without a paddle...He set off for San Francisco this morning. From London, it's quite a schlep. I packed his bags and even packed a picnic so he could avoid airplane food. Computer? CHECK. Cell phone? CHECK. Reading glasses? (He hasn't had them that long.) CHECK. Sun glasses? (It is California afterall. Nevermind that London is about as warm as the box of fish fingers in your freezer). CHECK. Coat? Scarf? Ear plugsisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-32693889615025254132011-03-01T16:47:00.002Z2011-04-15T17:40:46.167+01:00Just go in looking like crap...Another call from my agent yesterday morning: "I've got you an audition for a photo shoot. It's for a French charity." Me:"Oh... (that's not going to pay much then...) thank you for putting me forward." Agent: "I will email you the details." And she hung up.
Later on, I checked the casting breakdown. I was up for the role of the "thin woman": must be very thin/skinny and look like she is about isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-2533473756482635462011-02-28T12:54:00.001Z2011-02-28T18:13:42.808ZHiding in my father's wardrobeI'm pretty good at leaving people behind with my years of practice changing schools, moving countries and travelling for work. But I'm not so good when it comes to being the one who gets left behind. Even temporarily. I'll admit it: at the mere thought of being left on my own for even just a few days, the confident woman, the independent introvert reverts to wailing infant. Boo hoo! I'm not isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-90146729933967630952011-02-25T15:40:00.001Z2011-02-25T15:46:08.865ZThe Dita Von Teese principle"On n'attrape pas les mouches avec du vinaigre..." as the French saying goes, "You won't catch flies with vinegar..." so why is it that some shopping assistants (and the managers who hire them) think they can?
Look, I'm the first to admit that I don't shop much outside groceries and essentials and the occasional and uncharacteristic splurge on clothing and accessories. However, I do have an isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-65746347305718695842011-02-25T14:27:00.000Z2011-02-25T14:27:42.039ZI'm a people whispererThis morning, I had a nice chat with a lady in her bathing suit. It's a bit of a contradiction for a self-confessed introvert but lately I have found myself randomly engaging total strangers into conversation.
Take the lady in her bathing suit for example. It's not quite as strange as it sounds, we were in the changing rooms at my gym, and she was putting on some contact lenses before going forisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-55569179410628567602011-02-22T17:38:00.001Z2011-02-22T17:40:46.407ZYou know what they say about women with short hair?"Our woman is aged 35 - 40, she is attractive but interesting looking with a nice smile." This is the latest casting breakdown I received from my agent this morning. It's for a TV commercial for an insurance company. This is all fantastic feel-good news: my agent thinks they (I know it should say he or she but there's two of them) can sell me as attractive, and it's for TV insurance advertising isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-13907309513704014642011-02-19T15:39:00.000Z2011-02-19T15:39:34.581ZThe joy of OO not as in the Story of O, but as in zero, nought, nothing, the absence of... We spend so much time in the pursuit of things both material and spiritual that we rarely stop to think about celebrating that which we do not have.
Let's make it up close and personal. My typical private and selfish wish list includes: health and happiness for me and my loved ones (and everyone who reads this blog),isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-51000500989809768692011-02-16T13:58:00.000Z2011-02-16T13:58:16.973ZLicking the C-wordThe Berlusconi-ly minded amongst you are in for a b-i-g disappointment. This is not about what you're thinking, you salacious beasts, this one's about beating cancer. A friend I've known since University has breast cancer. I just found out.
For once, thoughts are all jumbled in my head, as if the gravity of the news had derailed my train of thought, shunted the carriages this way and that, isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-43785887521800620462011-02-09T19:12:00.000Z2011-02-09T19:12:35.137ZYou are a danger to yourself and possibly to others...Are you a clumsy person? The Americans have a delightfully expressive onomatopoeic term for it “clutz”. Do you find you collect bruises like others collect coupons? Do inanimate objects in your home suddenly take on a life and will of their own and attack you? And wasn’t there a story in the last 2 weeks about some poor woman who, following a brain operation, discovered that the left side of her isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-62287519846155863722011-02-05T17:09:00.001Z2011-02-06T17:16:03.406ZYou’re crowding me!- It’s rabbit season!
- Duck season.
- Rabbit…
Actually it’s the Year of the Rabbit according to the Chinese calendar and this week celebrated the start of the new year. As expected, London’s Chinatown was teaming with people, us included. Unlike most of the crowd that gathered off Gerrard Street to gawk at the dancing dragon snaffling hanging lettuces to the beat of bass drums, we’re in isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-76148074370976110562011-01-25T19:24:00.000Z2011-01-25T19:24:25.916ZWhat kind ice-cream flavour are you?Ice-cream flavours are like perfumes, they come in types. You have your Sorbets and your Creams. Sorbets come in citrus (eg lemon, pear, melon) and other (chocolate, strawberry)... There are 2 types of Creams as far as I can tell: primary (eg vanilla, chocolate, coffee, strawberry) and exotic (eg rhum and raisin, pistachio, ultra dark chocolate, chocolate and mint, cinnamon). And then there's isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-62107376772108443182011-01-21T18:36:00.000Z2011-01-21T18:36:07.837ZStep out away from your knickers...There's an English expression "Don't get your knickers in a twist." which sounds hilarious and somewhat obscure to foreigners but is actually rather sexist and patronising. It means "don't get upset" or "don't get hysterical". It is most often used by men and addressed to women (presumably because men don't wear knickers - at least not their own - and I can't picture David Beckham acting isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-68565737564138622752011-01-16T20:08:00.000Z2011-01-16T20:08:52.926ZAre you an inny or an outty?Most people fall into one or the other: introverts or extroverts. If you're an extrovert, you need excitement and stimulation and are usually seen as the life of the party. You find introverts shy and recessive. If you're an introvert, you're happiest on your own curled up with your favourite book or napping (if you're a cat), happily existing in the intricate tapistry of your inner world. You isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-5757520469027935022011-01-03T16:43:00.000Z2011-01-03T16:43:31.319ZTo do or not to do...This is an odd time of the year, it's not the run up to Christmas, it's not Christmas Eve (which is a bigger deal in France because that's when French people have their big meal - fresh oysters taste best with the anticipation of opening presents), it's not even Christmas Day, or even Boxing Day (which is a newish one on me and as yet doesn't feel like a proper holiday - what's Boxing Day anywayisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-21759284005230809382010-12-31T14:19:00.000Z2010-12-31T14:19:25.059ZGet me out of here! (Dec 23, 2010)It’s snowing at Heathrow. Let’s get this right: it snowed at Heathrow, all 5 inches of it, and now all the planes are stuck to the tarmac. By the looks of it , so is my airline’s website: can’t rebook our flight, can’t change our flight, can’t speak to a human being (connected to the airline) in London (or anywhere else in the UK, we’re not precious) or in the whole of China. Result: we’re not isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-66299914842319490932010-12-31T14:14:00.001Z2011-04-04T11:02:38.192+01:00Just press the Magic Button (Dec 19, 2010)We're having an amazing time in Beijing, it's an amazing place: tough, futuristic, steeped in history, dynamic and moving inexorably forward on a wave of hard work and industry, determination, and a sense of destiny. This is were the future is at. This is the future. Wake up! Over 1.3 billion people here are wide awake (usually all at the same time because the whole of the country is on Beijing isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-46283882978752423872010-12-31T08:30:00.000Z2010-12-31T08:30:53.481ZIt’s Peking Duck Season... (Dec 13, 2010)I fell in love with Shanghai but a few hours ago we stood in the middle of Tianamen Square and something in me stirred. We felt a bit overwhelmed by the symbolism and history, marvelled at the scale and admired the imposing double vista of Mao’s Mausoleum at one end and the Forbidden City at the other. It was bitterly cold - minus 2 degrees Celsius - but the sun was out lighting up a beautiful isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-22884362340414853742010-12-30T08:48:00.001Z2011-04-09T21:02:07.701+01:00Up the Creek without a Paddle (Dec 10, 2010)9:30 am. The map in the guide book made it look like a short walk from Suzhou train station to the Bei Ta (Ta means Pagoda), the first of the many sights we had planned to take in on our first day trip outside of Shanghai. Lulled into a false sense of confidence, we had hopped off the bullet train after a 25 minute ride and stepped into the gigantic, ultra modern, state of the art train station isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-45116859062710921042010-12-29T20:51:00.000Z2010-12-29T20:51:16.983ZChina Moll you’re my Doll (Dec 7, 2010)I am typing this rather gingerly fresh as I am from the nail salon and sporting some rather well groomed upper extremities (dark blood/square nails). I passed the little salon of which there are hundreds in Shanghai as I walked from Sun Yat Sen’s former residence in the French Quarter. For 5 pounds sterling, this lovely young woman shaped my nails, trimmed my cuticles, massaged my hands and isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-91497619457400928202010-12-29T07:21:00.000Z2010-12-29T07:21:17.509ZShanghai Surprise (Dec 4 2010)Good morning Shanghai! Or rather good afternoon. We landed at Shanghai’s Pudong Airport after a rather deconstructed trip through Heathrow Terminal 5. Have you been to the new Terminal 5? I don’t mean travelling business class (as I did flying to New York last Summer – hard work but someone has to do it) which is rather grand whisked away as you are through Fast Track Service and the bountiful isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-85369548524673526192010-12-29T07:12:00.000Z2010-12-29T07:12:42.998ZBe Careful! That's my best china...Ni Hao! Just got back from 3 weeks in China (it was only supposed to be around 2 but then it snowed a bit at Heathrow). Although I wrote several blog entries over the course of the trip, I was unable to access Blogger, so now that I'm back in London, here there are in installments.
And by the way, Merry Christmas!isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-44602543685865207922010-11-22T13:42:00.000Z2010-11-22T13:42:43.700ZDrama Queens and Shooting StarsBear with me, I am transcribing this blog entry from the back of a flimsy paper napkin from Ray's Jazz Cafe (or Cafe at Foyles as it's now called) in Soho. The napkins may be flimsy (recycled actually) but the place is nothing but. It's great, try it sometimes.
So which is it going to be? The question being: would you rather be a duty bound and iconic royal or lead a short and dramatic but isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-61962744207594525752010-11-16T16:54:00.000Z2010-11-16T16:54:57.291ZThe Bear and the Hungarian PrincessI wish I was a bear. Let me elaborate and broaden this statement. I'd like to be any type of hybernating animal. Why? Consider this: in the Spring and Summer, you frolick around in the lush grass of the meadows, stuffing yourself silly with berries and other wild fruit and honey (if you're a bear that is - and I'm quite partial to honey, especially since it's excluded from the Dukan Diet, hence isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-15121310281847218312010-11-03T13:56:00.000Z2010-11-03T13:56:29.768ZYou're middle aged and I want you to cry your eyes out.I love my agent! Their (my agent is actually 2 people) belief in me is unswerving. They believe I can play anything: any age, any nationality, any social group. Of course, most actors believe that and the theory is that yes, with training and dedication and a lot of research a good actor should be able to play a wide variety of roles.
That's what drama school is for. In the real world, unless isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-64009727158196936702010-10-27T14:53:00.000+01:002010-10-27T14:53:48.322+01:00The Emperor and the people on wheelsThe Emperor of Exmoor, a red dear and the largest wild land animal in the UK, was killed by a licensed hunter early this week. It reminded me of the scene with the stag on the Balmoral Estate in the film The Queen: it too was shot dead by a licensed hunter, a finance type from the city. What can I say, I side with the wild beast everytime. It may be romantic and sentimental and misplaced but I isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-86970737813878405172010-10-15T18:35:00.003+01:002010-11-03T13:03:01.021ZPlaying Doctors and NursesWe’re having a bit of a medical week. I had some inoculations yesterday for my planned trip to India (by planned I mean I know I’m going, at some point, like before the end of the year, but I’m not sure where to yet, or for how long). There are some nasty diseases out there: I got two jabs one for Hepatitis A and tetanus, one for polio, typhoid and diphtheria. The GP, feeling egalitarian in this isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-49343891119311396012010-10-04T11:57:00.003+01:002011-04-10T12:55:49.252+01:00I come bearing giftsBattling the rain, with my mock-Chanel sloppy trousers rolled-up around my ankles to avoid the tell-tale splatter, I picked my way around the puddles to the Tube station (that's what they call the London Metro/Subway). My destination? Kings Cross Station - or rather St Pancras International (or St Pancreas... as I like to call it) home of the Eurostar. I was heading home to Paris for the weekend.isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-33498978263539387642010-09-30T13:37:00.002+01:002011-04-04T11:00:31.816+01:00I'm knock-out drop-dead gorgeous!Well, the first two at least... sporting as I am a rather smarting (if not smart) black eye this morning, as a result of walking into my bedroom door last night (obviously I thought it was open). Unfortunately no one was on hand to film it. It would have made a hell of a youtube video and turned me into an overnight star - which only adds insult to injury.
I can however confirm the following:
1isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-62725830820901901522010-09-23T17:22:00.002+01:002010-09-25T16:03:41.608+01:00Frothing at the mouthMy toothpaste project has come to an end which means a well deserved rest and the prospect of renewed vigour on the creative front - and no more pangs of guilt at the bathroom mirror for using a competitive brand of toothpaste. Life can be so simple when you let it be!
I embraced my newly found freedom this morning by setting out early to run some errands: groceries, drop-off at Oxfam, isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-8896199367573540922010-09-09T17:36:00.001+01:002011-04-09T21:03:16.425+01:00I’ve been touched by MidasThis week, it’s certainly starting to feel as though I have been turned – quite literally – into gold by old King Midas when you consider the small fortune I’ve managed to spend on my eyes and teeth.
It all started with an impulse buy on Monday night: “I’m going to pop into Optix for some new glasses.” To be honest, the getting new glasses wasn’t the impulsive bit – it was kind of overdue; my isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-41962568895520923792010-09-07T12:01:00.001+01:002011-04-02T22:06:13.128+01:00The Cleopatra ComplexI've been feeling rather smashing lately, what with my recent all expenses paid trip to NY, my current assignment, the discovery of Scoop Gelato on my doorstep, and the amazing results of the Dukan diet (American size 2, people! size 2! Mini kilts! Skinny jeans! Madonna arms 'but nice' as a friend recently put it...and I still eat as much as I want - eat your heart out or better eat the Dukan wayisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-17406874969408756962010-09-06T09:14:00.000+01:002010-09-06T09:15:59.763+01:00I'm a 4 Scoop Kind of GirlForget everything you have ever come to associate with ice cream. The vans, the music, Magnums (full size and mini), Cornettos, Haagen Dazs, vanilla tubs, 99 Flakes, even Ben & Jerry's (even the chunky monkey variant), forget Baskin Robbins, Rocky Road.
Now, go to Brewer Street in London's Soho, walk into Scoop, ask the smiling young Italian lady to give you a taster of all of their gelato isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-49537419243865424962010-09-01T09:19:00.002+01:002011-04-04T10:56:39.925+01:00When Cardboard Boxes Make You CryMy youngest sister has been tasked with removing all our childhood things from my parents' flat. (For those among you of a more sensitive disposition please rest assured that my parents are alive and well - they just want more room for their own stuff.)
Which is how I found myself last weekend rummaging through cardboard boxes in my sister's Paris living room, coming face to face with my early isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-76965342783616885342010-08-27T17:54:00.001+01:002010-08-29T18:03:23.040+01:00Walk like a Parisienne...We're in Paris for the day, treating my four (and a half) year old niece to a grown-up lunch. First we picked up her mother from work and took them both to Brasserie Bofinger (it was plan B. Turns out plan A, a neighbourhood caf near La Bastille was shut for the month of August - a typical occurrence amongst French businesses).
The Brasserie was everything you'd expect and more: beautiful art isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-37507766753268779922010-08-24T11:20:00.003+01:002011-04-15T17:39:16.638+01:00Losing my panties and falling downI dropped my black yoga panties just outside the 5th floor lifts this morning. And although they were there for no more than 30 seconds, there was a (male) witness when I snatched them back up. Luckily a perfect stranger (hopefully not our CEO whom I get to meet on Thursday... but who else would have been in the otherwise deserted office at 8:30?)
I guess I owe you an explanation.
Let me take isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-89086446811719103592010-08-21T01:59:00.000+01:002010-08-21T01:59:13.157+01:00Gimme a New York Minute!My New York visit is finally coming to an end and I'm about to board the plane home with mixed emotions (not least because I discovered at the last minute that due to a typo, I had been booked on tomorrow's flight instead of tonight's - so a big thank you to the people of BA Club World for sorting that out.)
I love New York and all of its idiosyncrasies and it makes it hard to leave. Especiallyisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-74743689943451810502010-08-18T08:00:00.007+01:002010-08-23T15:04:50.179+01:00Take me to NOBU baby!Last night we went to NOBU. It was a business dinner. Another golden opportunity to make an impression (perhaps not the best one) on the new Clients with my Dukan Diet dietary requirements.
- Why?
- It’s the stabilisation phase… I’ll be able to go back to eating normally in a few months, but for now it’s about not putting back on the weight that I have lost.
- But why?
- Why what?
- Pardon me isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-42121599433274455092010-08-16T10:00:00.018+01:002010-08-23T14:53:36.020+01:00The Slow Motion Panic AttackThe past week has been a breeze – I’ve been in the zone – things have been taking care of themselves: dinner at Serendipity, finding a bathroom in Central Park, purchasing a size 2 (!!!) pair of skinny stretch pants (trousers) from Ann Taylor for $12.99 (I’m wearing them right now and boy it caused no end of rubber necking on my way to the Subway – American men are so much more obvious about it) isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-74278060180416134412010-08-15T03:52:00.001+01:002010-08-23T14:43:55.895+01:00The hands-on approach and the laws of SerendipityToday is Saturday. Still sitting pretty in the Big Apple. Treated myself to a "Hallucination Deep Tissue" 90 minute massage at H Spa on 34th Street and as the song goes "I'm feeling goooood..."
Like all the best things in life, it was completely unpremeditated. I was actually looking for a post office. In this land of plenty, in this town of late night opening hours, they have a rather isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-2804238677791272972010-08-14T03:21:00.000+01:002010-08-14T03:21:15.971+01:00Going NativeI love my new job. Seriously. Well especially the bit about having to spend all this time in New York.
Life here is easy, you know? Just finished my grocery shopping and it's 8 o'clock at night and all the stores are open and they sell everything you could possibly desire or hanker after and then some. And people look happy, floating on a combination of contentment and a total absence of isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-76882061763580092652010-08-13T01:44:00.001+01:002010-08-13T01:46:21.827+01:00Suck my toes!I may be developing a toe fetish. The jury's still out... But you've been warned. I was walking down 5th Avenue this morning - did I mention I was spending some time in New York? - and my gaze alighted on the painted toes of the woman standing beside me at the crossing.
They wear a lot of open toe shoes in Manhattan this time of year. A lot of flat sandals. I guess it makes easier to get aroundisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-42956303299731258032010-07-27T11:04:00.000+01:002010-07-27T11:04:56.948+01:00To happy endings and new beginnings5 performances left for Desire/Desig. One day, I will tell you all about it. One day but not today. (Oh all right, I'll tell you about how last Saturday, someone from the next show at the White Bear thought it would be a good idea to use an electric saw to cut some wood... in our dressing room... it was like Pompeii meets the Termites World Fair...)
Today I want to talk about endings. As someoneisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-9476509394940955772010-07-21T12:31:00.000+01:002010-07-21T12:31:49.333+01:00Who wears the pants in this outfit?This post is for the girls really. Unless you're a guy with a Panty Fetish, or just curious. This is about thongs and regular pants (undies for you Americans... not trousers) and their role and function in an active woman's life.
I for one am a fan of thongs, ever since I discovered them age 18 (late bloomer). Why? I have two words for you: panty lines. Not a good look! Up there with double isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-65680079919714347852010-07-19T11:33:00.000+01:002010-07-19T11:33:55.568+01:00Madam I like your melons...Poor man, I do him an injustice. He didn't actually say that, the man in the green cap and tweed jacket standing behind me in the queue at the Barbican Branch of Waitrose. What he said was "I'm sure you're not!" He was referring to my David and Goliath red singlet which reads "DRAMA QUEEN" in white capital letters on the front.
- Thank you. It's meant to be a joke, I'm an actress. (Ooh how I isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-39646795315750786212010-07-09T09:18:00.001+01:002010-07-09T09:19:10.079+01:00I'm primed and will find my mark...Mike said "you need a high waisted pencil skirt - grey if you can find it" so I did. I did it! Under duress from the amazingly talented designer for my new play DESIRE (13-31 July at The White Bear, London - box office: 020 7793 9193 - please come and see it or I will strike you from my FB!) I had to go to... Primark for the very first time.
I went early on Tuesday (they open at 8:30) before isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-87226450211803528742010-06-24T12:07:00.009+01:002010-06-24T12:47:29.150+01:00The Birth of Venus and the Death of Peter PanPeter Pan is dead! Long live Venus! I think I may have finally caught up with myself.
Would you like me to expand on the topic?
They say (they who? I don't know: psychologists, people in white coats, scientists) that our self-perception trails our age by some 10 years. Never one to do things by halves, I think mine was trailing by some 25...if not 30! There were lots of clues: dressing like a isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-57410074965643441952010-06-23T17:32:00.003+01:002010-06-23T17:38:15.018+01:00This is a house of ill repute!There's a new building that's gone up on the corner opposite. It's a sliver of a thing: one window deep. Still, that's 5 windows (one per floor) to peak at, Rear Window style, from my kitchen window. The ground floor has floor to ceiling windows, rather dodgy on a busy street corner if you ask me... and is apparently an office. I say apparently because for all intents and purposes it's done up asisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-78343904021350910682010-06-17T12:05:00.002+01:002010-06-17T12:07:16.023+01:00Stop it or you'll go blind!Another rehearsal last night for Desire (the play what I'm in July 13-31 at the White Bear Theatre, London click here). It involved pretending to play chess on an invisible board (neither one of us actually knows how to play), crying (me), giggling (me and her - because she found a second (rude) meaning to a section of the scene we were working on), and the director giving us heartbreaking isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-76762183992708010912010-06-15T09:15:00.001+01:002010-06-15T09:19:30.053+01:00Dressing up the DollyLast night, at the start of our rehearsal for DESIRE, the designer came to show us the set and to discuss wardrobe. His name is Mike Lees and he is extraordinarily talented as well as deliciously waspish. I didn't even mind that he turned down my request to be dressed in the white and red latex nun outfit that Lady Gaga sports in her latest video "Alejandro" http://ladygaga.wikia.com/wiki/isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-38443784201858868182010-06-14T10:13:00.001+01:002010-06-14T10:17:19.665+01:00Look at Me!!This morning, I found a personal invitation to join fashion social network Lookville in my inbox. It's an American site that is quirky, quite girly, and altogether rather charming with fashion tips, opinions and feedback on your style if you ask for it! Although most of it is very constructive, some of it is deliciously biting:
Example: "What do you think of people who draw fake moles." "isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-36479219651019378422010-06-11T19:40:00.001+01:002010-06-14T09:54:10.759+01:00You say World Cup I say Hot Pants!I am wearing hot pants. No, not knickers still toasty warm from the dryer. Proper short shorts aka hot pants. They are white with cute pastel mini horizontal stripes (which officially no longer make us look bigger than we are). They're from Just Jeans and I bought them in Manly (cool North Sydney surfing beach/community) two years ago (I needed a pair of undies and that's all I could find -- it'sisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-14908678677104592612010-06-07T15:15:00.000+01:002010-06-07T15:15:09.701+01:00A love storyThe rehearsal process - if all goes well - is a love story. A love story between you and the character. Because often, when you first look at the script your character is a complete stranger. You may empathise all you want but you still only know it or understand it from the outside.
No matter how much research I do, how I try to make every detail relevant by making substitutions in my mind (isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-78114832153943048052010-05-04T17:35:00.000+01:002010-05-04T17:35:40.483+01:00Filled with Desire!Last Wednesday we had our first rehearsal for Desire, a play which will have its UK Premiere in London this summer. It's by a celebrated Catalunian (as in from Barcelona, Catalunia, Spain) playwright and scriptwriter called Josep Maria Benet i Jornet who has just being honoured with a life achievement award by his government. It'll be on at the White Bear (Kennington, South London) from July isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-58880166441613465382010-04-28T17:19:00.000+01:002010-04-28T17:19:21.405+01:00Are you taping this?Gordon Brown, the English Prime Minister and current candidate for Labour in the forthcoming election had a really unfortunate microphone mishap - some might say meltdown - today... he forgot he was wearing his microphone and a private conversation was recorded by the media as his car drove away, in which he called a pensioner he had just spoken to "a bigoted woman". He also described his isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-77516205368316718432010-04-21T10:14:00.001+01:002010-04-21T10:26:24.600+01:00Move over Eve, it's all about Me!I had my very first stage audition for a big play last Thursday, for a role of understudy. I love my agent! It was for a well known play, with an A list cast, in a big theatre in the West End (London's Broadway), for a proper 12 week run. The understudy role was to cover the two smallest female parts in the play and required a General American accent.
I had one and a half days to prepare for isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-54495993766391134522010-03-26T12:07:00.000Z2010-03-26T12:07:50.873ZShow as yer tits! (Redux)The word is out. I'm like a cab for hire when it comes to showing some flesh. And now even the plumber knows about it.
We have a leaky faucet in the bathroom and Alan the plumber very kindly came round to fix it this morning. I happened to mention that I was going to be playing opposite Jim Broadbent in Any Human Heart (as you can imagine I've been telling everybody, even complete strangers). isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-25552590301649411572010-03-25T09:53:00.001Z2010-03-25T09:55:16.098ZLooking half-bad and loving it!I had an appointment at Angels the Costumiers yesterday afternoon. With the wardrobe department from Any Human Heart: a lovely lady by the name Charlotte, her assistant Lucy and the young representative from Angels whose name I didn't catch because I was too busy starring at her beautiful pre-Raphaelite locks.
The appointment was not at the well known fancy dress store on Shaftesbury Avenue in isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-56945184732805303412010-03-24T12:23:00.000Z2010-03-24T12:23:31.813ZI finally get to play French... but she's a prostitute.And she's a plump one (it's in the script.)!
Never mind that. Bring on the pasta... I have just been cast by uber-casting director Nina Gold in Channel 4's four part adaptation of William Boyd's novel Any Human Heart.
More specifically, I have been cast as Severine, a "French plump provincial prostitute" to play opposite the brilliant Jim Broadbent.
I am very excited. (Yes. really.)
My agentisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-33436857804822306252010-03-05T08:51:00.002Z2010-03-05T08:54:26.833ZPink Treasure“Can you tell me which way is… Li-ver-pool Street?” She was a rather short and plump middle aged South American lady, with a warm smile. I was standing at the top of the escalators at Liverpool Street station on the Bishopsgate side. In my pink duffel coat, waiting for my friend Nigel. I smiled back. "Liverpool Street is just around the corner here, to your right." She struggled to find the isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-13558814114821082292010-03-02T11:25:00.000Z2010-03-02T11:25:52.369ZI'm a Russian Working girlSome of you may remember that I apperared in a Heinz ad last year. Well, brace yourselves because it's going to run again. For 3 months. And it's going to run in Russia as well.
In the meantime, remember the corporate job I auditioned for last week? Well I got it. Of course I got it. Will report on the shoot soon.isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-71057568230942622972010-02-23T11:39:00.000Z2010-02-23T11:39:13.538ZMe and the Vampire, we're like one degree of separation...For whatever reason, I've only recently become aware of HBO hit series True Blood, set in the deepest of the Deep South, and following the adventures of Sookie, a telepathic waitress played by Anna Paquin (Remember the little girl who won an Oscar for Jane Campion's The Piano? Well, her.) and her rather dishy lover Bill Compton, who happens to be a vampire. (Yes really. With retractable fangs andisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-43469030590100169132010-02-15T14:48:00.001Z2010-02-15T14:49:16.471ZShould I forgive you now that you're old and shrivelled?Hands up if as a child you were afraid to sleep in the dark, or worried about monsters crouching under the bed or hiding in the wardrobe. Night terrors and childhood fears tend to fade as we get older. Nowadays I only tend to check under the bed (and behind the door) if I'm falling asleep alone. It's progress...
Now raise your hand if you suffered at the hands of a sadistic teacher or isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-60532380314945965802010-02-09T17:48:00.001Z2010-02-09T17:49:57.763Z21st century science catches up with prehistoric manSize 0 is out.
Please out my latest blog entry on The Independent website on the imminent return to Homo Sapiens aesthetics: http://isabellegregson.livejournal.com/isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-20543106616548873042010-02-09T11:08:00.001Z2010-02-09T11:13:13.959ZWe are not a-muse-d!Can you be your own Muse or is that one egocentric step too far? At any rate, I'm feeling pretty inspired this morning.
I just had an email from the agent of an up-and-coming writer who is interested in discussing my new stage play - code name: The Lusty Lady. I can't really say much about it as it's at the protozoic stage right now (ie large group of single-celled, usually microscopic, isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-27842414207292960482010-02-04T10:20:00.001Z2010-02-04T10:25:24.575ZDon't you know who the hell I am?A successful acting career is a bit like alchemy. It involves luck, persistance, hard work, a thick skin, sometimes talent - but the precise formula is elusive and ever changing. It's also a bit like money. Once you have a fair amount of it, it's self-generating. The problem is starting out.
The rules used to be simple. Successful actors acted in film, high profile TV dramas or long running isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-54954275809903492562010-02-03T15:19:00.011Z2010-02-04T12:07:33.553ZLet's get nakedConsider this for a moment. If you were preparing to appear naked on stage or screen, how much of an expectation would there be that you would appear toned, tanned, lithe and dancer like? How much of that expectation would come from others (director, producers, co-stars, casting director, your agent)? And how much would come from you?
Is it a question of common sense, professionalism or ego? isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-91719299174480103152010-02-02T09:56:00.006Z2010-02-02T10:46:46.003ZIt's not the G spot, c'est le G point!Nul point to King's College London. The G spot doesn't exist? Quelle horreur! Where on earth were they looking for it? On the back of a Wheatabix cereal packet? What next, the clitoris is useless, an evolutionary relic like the appendix? Who sponsored their study? FHM or the Daily Star? Thank goodness the results have now been refuted by French specialists who say that 56% of women enjoy isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-49396587692712776452010-02-01T11:54:00.003Z2010-02-01T13:01:50.407ZSmoking hot!Apparently, there will be less than 10% of the UK population still smoking by 2020 if the government has its way. What will people do instead I wonder? Drink more? Eat more? Gamble more?Will everyone who quits smoking become better adjusted and a better person? What about us non-smokers? Does this mean we are already a better class of citizens?Will those glamourous black and white films full ofisabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-2721121869327083582009-12-15T11:12:00.005Z2009-12-15T12:20:11.444ZI want to be a world famous fetish modelI didn't say that. I wish I had but sadly I can't take credit for it. These words were uttered by Ditta Von Teese, the self styled 50's pin-up queen of burlesque. She started her career as a fetish model, gained notoriety for her signature style and then drifted into burlesque.My point is, other than the gratuitous titillation, that Ditta's success came from her carving out a niche for herself isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-27618555040869497942009-11-19T17:34:00.004Z2009-11-19T18:03:30.190ZThe film what I was almost the star inLast year, I auditionned for an American feature film. It was to play the lead. I got a recall. Then I went to Edinburgh to do my one woman show.The film has been made. Without me obviously. Guess who is playing "my" part? Milla Jovovich.That's right, the ex-model, ex-wife of Jean-Luc Besson, face of L'Oreal and all around leggy big eyed beauty.Nice to know one's casting type.The film was called isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-71779797852246986632009-11-17T16:47:00.008Z2009-11-17T17:16:58.180ZKate Moss stole my braWhat happens when the world's most beautiful, stylish, famous model and muse puts on a few pounds? Does she get cellulite and wobbly upper thighs, or grow a muffin top, or get a gut? No! It goes straight to fill a B-cup.There is no God. But I love her anyway. Kate I mean. I think she's just splendid. Has turned all her quirks into winning assets and she's got more durability than the Duracel isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-20515125555146427852009-10-30T16:00:00.005Z2009-10-30T16:26:18.968ZBe quiet! I am too beautiful to talk to you...... preferably said in a comedy Russian/dodgy old Duchess Eastern European accent.This is a subject I often revisit. Why is it that physical beauty is not always matched by kindness and generosity? Why did Mother Teresa and Naomi Campbell look the way they did/do (albeit at 100 for Mother Teresa) and act the way they did/do?Does the universe have some kind of rule that a human being can only isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-53437262173600054762009-10-22T15:59:00.007+01:002009-10-22T17:18:06.205+01:00Howard Barker and the pillow banditI am a pillow bandit. I admit it. I steal pillows, in my sleep, in the middle of night, from under slumbering heads...It's a new trend. It just started. Actually, it's only happened once so far so calling it a trend might be a little premature.I'm not even sure of what happened exactly. Accounts differ.I remember waking briefly and becoming aware of the absence of pillow underneath my head. I isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-79142050308020173122009-09-24T18:36:00.004+01:002009-09-24T19:22:23.841+01:00Me, Camilla and the Archbishop of CanterburyDon't think about buses. I know, they too come along all at once after long and unexplained periods of absence.The thing is, I've had a rather successful bout of celebrity spotting recently. And given that it was my first in 10 years in London - I found it rather exciting in a small child at DisneyLand kind of way.Now, I have to come clean about a little quirk of mine. I struggle with facial isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-50799331530965775572009-09-24T16:47:00.005+01:002009-09-24T17:30:20.476+01:00The things wot I done the sights wot I seenIt's been a while, I know. Well, I've been busy. I have! Why didn't you write me?Did you at least miss me? Wondered where I'd got to? If I'd ever come back?Chances are no one noticed. A full month sans blogging - and nada.Ah well, since you ask, since you're silently begging me to reveal all, I'll tell what I've been up to.It all started with a wonderfully glorious bank holiday weekend with P&M isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-34143346730718671382009-09-10T16:41:00.005+01:002009-10-02T16:46:45.214+01:00When I grow up I wanna be a cyberdolly!I'm on Twitter, Facebook, MySpace and YouTube. I've got a blog and a website, and five email addresses. I'm also a bit of a text fiend. But am I losing touch with reality?Reality. Remember? Talking to other people face to face, or writing them a letter that folds into an envelope with stamp and mail? Getting your hands and knees dirty in the garden. Getting grass stains on your white trousers isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-57162953615385683002009-08-26T11:11:00.012+01:002009-08-26T14:20:05.420+01:00To dye or not to dye? or Is Grey the new Blonde?Let's begin at the beginning.I'm having a hair crisis.Again. (No need for panic though as it only scores a measly 5 on the IGIS*.)Short hair is fantastic: youthful, showcases your features, makes you stand out from the casting crowd (why do they all have shoulder length hair?), no split ends. The downside is that it has a recurring tendency to grow out very suddenly. You can go from elfin to isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-35509030783483511952009-08-18T10:46:00.010+01:002009-08-18T11:49:56.842+01:00Pin Up or Peanut?It's official. I'm a pin up!What I mean is I had my first upmarket fashion/art magazine interview ever... commissioned by a contributing editor to Vogue.Need I say more...Yes actually, I do! The magazine is called GLASS MAGAZINE, published by CondeNast. And I'm in rather good company: last month they had an interview with Michelle Yeoh.Want to know what all the fuss is about?A Cast of Thousands -isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1361168449908122920.post-51422068923659794692009-08-12T11:04:00.002+01:002009-08-12T11:21:55.139+01:00The Skinny, The Pudgy and the Ecto/MesomorphIs there any middle ground in the physical department for a woman after her late twenties? Leaving aside models and certain athletes, and Angelina Jolie, is there anything left between being unappealingly skinny (sunken cheeks, dull complexion, lanky hair, concave chest and absent rump) and deliciously endowed (overflowing bosom, rosy cheeks, luxuriant locks, full lips, and welcoming hips)? Is isabelle gregsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06333035412611867552noreply@blogger.com0