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Because I really deserve some man candy today…

Published November 26, 2013 by The Feminist

Shit. If there is one word that completely captures how I felt the other day, it would unfortunately be this God awful word.

At the risk of sounding like a ridiculous drama queen right now: sometimes you can have one of those days. Yes, those. When everything seems to go wrong. It starts with this one thing- which completely leaves you gobsmacked- and before you know it, it triggers a chain of shitty moments that turns the day into… well… hell.

I had one of those days yesterday.

So when I came home after such a dreadfully long and awful day, the first thing I did was put on some Katy Perry brightness.

I roared.

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Although it did manage to cheer me up a bit, I realized that heavier material needed to be introduced to truly lift my spirits.

And what better way to feel positive about life than by looking at some absolutely fabulous, handsome, sexy and drop-dead gorgeous men?

Ha!

I thought so!

So for all of you who might be experiencing one of those days as well, here is something to soothe the pain.

Jamie Dornan

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JT

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Idris Elba

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Joseph Gordon-Levitt

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I’m feeling better already! 😉

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Pure Magic: Saffron Swiss Roll with Fantastic Fig Filling

Published November 24, 2013 by The Feminist

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Are you a Disney fan, dear reader? If you are, I’m sure you will remember that famous scene from Aladdin in which Aladdin’s best friend, the monkey Abu, sees this gigantic red gemstone. Although he knows he cannot touch anything, the gem is just to alluring to leave behind.

Basically, Abu went nuts.

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And that’s exactly how I felt after a morning of industrious baking. This Saffron Swiss Roll surpassed all my expectations. I was so proud of myself I actually considered texting my best friend to tell her how amazing I am.

abu huh

I didn’t. I just gave myself a pat on the bag instead.

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So after the obligatory two hours of waiting- to let the cake cool down completely (I swear, these were the longest hours in my life!)- I treated myself to a gigantic slice of heavenly bliss. It was pure magic. The aromatic saffron flavour of the sponge gives the Swiss roll a luxurious touch and the rose-scented dried fig filling transports you all the way to the Middle East, to the beauty of Agrabah. Add to that the wonderful mélange of nuts to give extra crunch and texture and you’ll be floating on a hallucinatory magic carpet, singing “A whole new world” out of utter oblivion.

Yes, it was that good.

Needless to say that I found it incredibly hard to share this cake with my family.

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This Abu doesn’t share food.

Trust me, after you’ve baked this Swiss roll, you won’t want to either.

Saffron Swiss Roll with Dried Fig filling

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Ingredients:
• 4 eggs, separated
• 180gr caster sugar
• 120gr plain flour
• ¾ tsp baking powder
• ¼ tsp salt
• ½ tsp saffron powder
• Icing sugar for dusting

For the filling:
• 150gr of dried figs
• 200ml water
• ½ tsp rose water
• 2 tbsp orange marmalade
• 150gr chopped nuts

Method:
1. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Line a baking tray with baking parchment.
2. Whisk the egg whites until stiff and set aside.
3. In another bowl, mix the egg yolks on high speed until pale. Gradually add the caster sugar.
4. Sift in the flour, baking powder, salt and saffron. Fold it in until combined.
5. Gently fold in the egg whites.
6. Pour the batter onto the baking tray and bake in the oven for 10 minutes.
7. Dust a clean sheet of baking parchment with icing sugar. Once your cake is out of the oven, immediately transfer the cake onto the dusted baking parchment.
8. Roll the sponge and the dusted parchment up together. Let it cool, seam side down, for 15 minutes.
9. Meanwhile make the filling by heating the dried figs with the water and rose water. Let it simmer for 5 minutes until the figs are soft. Mix the figs in a blender until you get smooth paste. Stir in the orange marmalade and chopped nuts.
10. Once the sponge has cooled, remove the paper and spread the fig filling over the inside of the roll. Re-roll the sponge without the dusted baking parchment and dust with extra icing sugar before serving.

My imaginary dream date with Leonardo DiCaprio

Published August 29, 2013 by The Feminist

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The doorbell rang. It was ten o’clock in the evening and I was watching Suits on TV with a tub of Ben&Jerry’s Peanut-Butter-Me-Up ice-cream in my lap. Normally I don’t like it when people bother me while I’m watching Suits, for I like to be left alone when I’m gawking at Harvey Specter’s marvelous behind. For some reason, which I would later come to understand is called “destiny”, I did manage to get up from the couch and walk my way to the door wearing nothing but a pair of fluffy pink socks and a XXL “Future Mrs. Styles” One Direction t-shirt.

“A delivery for Ms. Versluys,” A middle-aged man in a red velvet suit was standing on my doorstep with in his one hand a tiny little box and in his other what appeared to be a letter in a golden envelope. “Do you have any idea how late it is?”, I grunted bitterly, “Since when do you guys deliver so late at night?” The man was taken aback by my rather rude response and obviously had no idea it wasn’t a very good idea to interrupt a girl while she was watching Suits. “I’m sorry, Miss. We didn’t mean to interrupt your…” he looked at my t-shirt and I suddenly felt really self-conscious about standing in the doorway with Harry Styles’ face on my chest “…me-time,” he finally added. “My boss doesn’t really care about the nine-to-five rule.” Before I had any time to ask the man who his boss was, he had already pushed the envelope and box in my hands and made his way back to his car, a Toyota Prius with tinted windows.

I went back inside and opened the seal of the golden envelope, revealing a handwritten letter:

‘Dear Eveline,

“To get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.” ~Mark Twain.
In this spirit, I’m inviting you to join me on my trip to the ruins of Pompeii this weekend.

I will pick you up on Saturday morning at 6 o’clock so we can be there by nightfall.

Your Admirer,

Leonardo DiCaprio

PS: Please accept these earrings as a token of my affection and a promise of what is yet to come. The rest of the outfit will arrive tomorrow.’

I was gobsmacked. If this is one of my brother’s silly pranks, I’m going to kill him. I looked at the box beside me and opened it with shaky hands. There it was, the most beautiful looking pair of earrings I had ever seen. Obviously diamonds. Obviously ridiculously expensive.

I had no idea what to make of all this: the letter, the earrings, the creepy man in the red velvet suit. And who for God’s sake just travels to the ruins of Pompeii on a weekend? Normal people would go to a museum to see antiquities, not travel hundreds of miles with a girl you’ve never met.

But then again, Leonardo DiCaprio probably didn’t do normal. He’s Leonardo DiCaprio.

The next morning, I woke up early, made myself a large cup of coffee and camped in front of the front door, waiting for the middle-aged man in the red velvet suit to reappear. At 9 o’clock sharp the doorbell rang again. I quickly opened the door and saw the same man that stood on my doorstep last night. For some reason he looked less creepy in broad daylight; more Santa Claus, less midnight rapist. He was holding a large cardboard box with a red ribbon around it and looked at me with a big frown on his face. Fuck, I’m still wearing my Harry Styles t-shirt! That is so not how I want Leo to remember me. (I thought I was allowed to call him Leo. I was going on a date with him after all).
I quickly accepted the box and went inside. In one swift movement I opened up the box as my heart beat wildly with excitement… It was The Chandelier Dress, worn by none other than Carry Mulligan in The Great Gatsby. The crystal-coated fabric was simply drool-worthy and must have been worth millions of dollars. Don’t spill your damn coffee. I put my coffee mug on the counter, took off my Harry Styles t-shirt, all the while swearing to never ever wear that again, and very carefully stepped into the dress. I felt like I was the image of glamour personified. I’m going on a date with Leonardo DiCaprio. In the chandelier dress. I have got to be the luckiest girl on the planet.

***
My heart started beating quicker as the clock neared 6 a.m. The doorbell rang. I’m starting to grow fond of that sound. As I swung open the door, Leo was already leaning against the side of his car, the same Toyota Prius from a couple of days ago. He was smoking a battery-powered cigarette and was wearing a delicate cashmere sweater and a smart-looking pair of stone cotton trousers. His pure Hollywood glamour made me catch my breath and the intensity of his expression as we shook hands- his skin soft but his grip strong- made my blood run fast. “Eveline,” he said with a husky voice, “you look absolutely breathtaking in that dress. Much better than that One Direction t-shirt,” his smile bright and genuine. “You saw that?” I exclaimed in utter shock and embarrassment. “Yes, I was sitting in the back of the car when my driver delivered the envelope” he explained matter-of-factly. I blushed. Damn those tinted windows.

Although the drive to Pompeii took hours, time seemed to be flying by. He sat next to me in the back of the Prius, one leg slung over the other, while our good friend in the red velvet suit drove us to the ruins. We talked about our hearts’ desires with an ease as if we had known each other for years. That is to say, I talked about my heart’s desires, he talked about global warming, gay rights, how to stop ivory poachers and how to save the Siberian tiger. It was a joy listening to him passionately raving about the things that were important to him – God, environmentalists are sexy– but I admittedly found it rather hard to focus on the gravitas of his words when he was staring at me with those strikingly beautiful eyes and dark, mischievous eyebrows.
It suddenly dawned on me that I still hadn’t asked about the elephant in the room- or better: the elephant in the Toyota Prius- and gently inquired as to why we were going to the ruins of Pompeii. “ It’s the ultimate unfiltered world, untouched by the hands of media and fame. Pompeii is my way of escaping Hollywoodian reality. It reminds me that all of us are just grains of sand in the desert of eternity. Nothing lasts forever. Everything eventually crumbles down. Even Hollywood fame.”
Swoon. Could he possibly be more perfect?

Apparently he could, because when we arrived at the ruins of Pompeii – night had already fallen and the sky was dotted with stars- he revealed a giant picnic basket from the trunk. “I hope you’re up for a picnic?” He smiled and winked at me. I giggled, which wasn’t a very grown-up thing to do but I just couldn’t help myself. He took my hand as we walked across the ancient Roman city and he came to a halt in the middle of the Amphitheatre. He pulled a soft, checkered blanket out of the picnic basket and laid it across the ground. We both took of our shoes- thank God I had just had a pedicure– and we snuggled up against each other as we looked up to the stars; the lights reflecting against the crystals of my dress, making me look like Tinker Bell from Peter Pan. While I was admiring my luminous outfit, Leo opened up a bottle of organic champagne. “Friends of mine own an organic vineyard in France. They truly make the best wine.” Of course they do. They are friends with Leonardo DiCaprio.

It was indeed delicious champagne, although everything would have tasted great in such fine company. He had also brought an entire box of Turkish delight, “because I know you have a sweet tooth.” They were sticky and sweet, just how I like them and while I was licking my fingers I was suddenly overcome with emotions. I was on a date with Leonardo DiCaprio. For real. How did that happen?

“Why me?”, I asked with a far too high-pitched voice, my nerves clearly audible. I cleared my throat and started over: “Why did you ask me to go on a date with you?” For what seemed to be minutes, but in fact were probably just a couple of nanoseconds, there was silence. A fine smile appeared across his lips as he leaned forward and whispered in my ear: “Because I love your blog.” My face went totally red. “You read my blog?” I said in complete astonishment. I was definitely not expecting that answer .He lay his one hand on my knee and lifted my chin up to meet his face with the other. “Only when you write about me”, he replied. I giggled. I really need to stop doing that.

For hours we lay in each others’ arms, looking at the stars, not saying a word. A silence that was both comforting and intriguing at the same time. When the sun appeared across the horizon a couple of hours later, Leo lifted me up in his arms and carried me all the way back to the car, where the red velvet suit had been watching James Bond movies on his laptop. Leo gently lowered me into the back of the car and he looked me in the eyes, his eyes so close to mine I was practically swimming in their immeasurable blueness. It felt as if I was floating, floating between dream and reality. Floating with the fear of falling, but with the promise to fly…

***
“Hold on! Are you telling me you went on a date with Leonardo DiCaprio and you didn’t as much as kiss?” That’s what you are all thinking right now, isn’t it? Where is the sex?

Well, if you really need to know… we had wild and crazy sex in the back of his Prius when the red velvet suit was having breakfast in a Diner on our way back to my apartment.

There. Satisfied?

The End.

Notes from the author:
• This story is purely fictional and should not be considered real. Everything is based on nothing but my frighteningly extravagant imagination and on some previously published interviews with, and well-known facts about Leonardo DiCaprio)
• In reality it would probably take much longer to drive from my apartment in Belgium to the ruins of Pompeii in Italy. Unless the red velvet suit drove excessively fast…
• I do not- I repeat- I DO NOT own a Harry Styles One Direction t-shirt in real life.

Because Superman deserves his Superwoman (and that would be me, Henry Cavill!)

Published June 11, 2013 by The Feminist

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Okay, this might be a bit over the top. I’m anything but a Superwoman. I can’t fly, have absolutely no muscles whatsoever and would never dare to fight evil head-on. I’m the one who hides in the corner or under the table , hoping the burglar will leave my apartment ASAP- with or without my flatscreen TV, what do I care? – instead of smacking him in the back of the head with a rolling pin. Yes, I am total wuss. But on the other hand, I might be able to pull off a super tight bodysuit. 😉 It all depends on your definition of “superwoman”. Every woman has certain superhero qualities, although she might not realize it herself. So next time you go out to find yourself your very own Superman, don’t think about the things you’re not good at or the things you don’t have, but focus on your one-in-a-million, wonderfully good qualities! To set a good example, I’ll go first:

I’m smart, witty, friendly, creative, have a great sense of style and I can cook! Ha! I’m like a modern-day Julia Child, Coco Chanel and Eleanor Roosevelt all rolled into one! If that’s not Superwoman-like, I don’t know what is!

Uhum. Well, sort of anyway. But at least you get my point: we are all Superwomen in our own special way! Hell yeah!

Which leads me to my next point: Although a Superwoman can perfectly manage without a man on her arm, it would be nice if she could share her brilliance with an equally super-heroic male counterpart. A Superman!

I know, they are indeed very rare. (Unfortunately for all you guys, being able to play videogames all day whilst drinking a six-pack of beer is not exactly proof of heroic capabilities. ) Luckily for all us Superwomen there is Hollywood, providing us with plenty of eligible- albeit fictional – Supermen. Leonardo Dicaprio in the Great Gatsby. Ryan Gosling in the Notebook. Joseph Gordon- Levitt in…well, practically every film he has ever played in. And last but oh so definitely not least, Henri Cavill.

When he made his appearance on the Tudors a couple of years ago, I just knew this Brit would stick around for many more years to come. I mean, look at him! He is absolutely gorgeous! And knee-quivering, jaw-dropping mysterious! And his eyes are all dreamy and mesmerizing! (and far less creepy than those of his co-actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers!)

Alright, alright! I better shut up, because it is getting a bit embarrassing. But don’t pretend you hadn’t noticed it yourself! 😉 Even if you are practically blind, you can still spot Cavill’s Superhero qualities from miles away! It is that obvious!

Henry Cavill’s Superman potential was so obvious and meant-to-be that Hollywood producers and filmmakers finally realized he was the right man to step into the ultimate superhero role as the “Man of Steel”. And Oh Boy, he sure as hell looks incredibly sexy in his skintight Superman suit. He doesn’t just play Superman, he is Superman!

From top to bottom

superman1

And from bottom to top

superman

Needless to say, I can’t wait to go and see “Man of Steel”. Even if it turns out to be the worst movie ever made, it will still be amazing thanks to Mr. Cavill. (And let’s be honest here: chances are small that it will be the “worst movie ever”, since we’ve all just witnessed the whole Will-and-Jaden Smith “After Earth” debacle ; ) )

So ladies and fellow Superwomen: feel free to find yourself a Superman, but beware: I’ve already found mine in Cavill, so hands off! 😉

Back to the Roaring Twenties: Style Inspiration from The Great Gatsby

Published May 5, 2013 by The Feminist

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Baz Luhrmann’s film adaptation of one of the greatest novels of all time has led to some major Gatsby fever. The Great Gatsby is literally everywhere: we’re bombarded with movie snapshots, trailers and interviews with the cast. But the most exciting part about the most hyped movie of the year by far, is the fashion of Daisy Buchanan and co. I am dead serious when I say that I wish I had lived in that era (fashion-wise that is) since the fashion of the Roaring Twenties is the perfect representation of what my personal style is all about: Decadence and luxury all drenched in an inappropriately large quantity of Moët & Chandon champagne! 😉 During the Roaring Twenties the hemlines became shorter and waistlines became looser. All the glamorous socialites were clad in marabou feathers (Oh my!), furs (though I would now opt for a more animal-friendly faux-fur piece) and bedazzled headpieces (Admit it! You want one of those!) . What’s more: practically all women had short hair! (like me!) Sigh. I would have been such a fabulous flapper girl…

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The costumes were designed by Catherine Martin (who won an Oscar for best Costume design for Moulin Rouge), in collaboration with none other than Miuccia Prada! The collection oozes sophistication and avant-garde exuberance: just look at the ‘chandelier dress’ Carey Mulligan got to wear on set:

the great gatsby chandelier

And if you thought things couldn’t get any better: America’s luxury brand Brooks Brothers designed over 500 suits for the entire male cast! Leonardo DiCaprio looks incredible in his white suit…

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Oh Leo….

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So before you buy your tickets, I suggest you get into that sizzling Roaring Twenties vibe first : Buy that flapper dress (the bolder the better!) and take that extra sip of champagne! Fitzgerald would definitely approve 😉

This girl has some serious Oscar Fever, y’all!

Published February 24, 2013 by The Feminist

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Tonight is the night we have all been waiting for! It’s Oscar night: by far my favourite night of the year, after Christmas Eve! (and that means something!) I love everything about it: from the red carpet and the beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous dresses to the emotional acceptance speeches. The Oscars provide the ultimate escapism, transporting me to another place, a place of glitter and glamour where it’s okay for women to go completely over the top and wear very bold, eye-catching dresses!

Sigh.

If only I could be there….

Anyway, let’s talk about who I believe should take home one of these prestigious Academy Awards:

• Best Supporting Actress: Anne Hathaway: I saw Les Misérables last night and let me tell you something: she deserves the Oscar! Oh boy, I was literally lost for words!

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• Best Film: Django Unchained, Les Misérables or Argo: Django and Les Mis are my personal favourites, but personal preferences aside, I believe Argo should win, because Ben Affleck was surprisingly left out of the Best Director category.

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• Best Actor: They all deserve to win! (Except Bradley Cooper. P-leeeeaaaase, not Bradley Cooper!)
• Best Actress: I’m a huge fan of Jessica Chastain, but I’m afraid Jennifer Lawrence will beat her to it.

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• Best Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz, hell yeah!! (I am hugely disappointed, however, that Leonardo Dicaprio isn’t even nominated in this category. Wasn’t he brilliant in Django? Not to mention Samuel L. Jackson, who was also ignored!)

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Who are your favourite nominees this year? Come on, you can tell me! I won’t judge. 😉

Django Unchained: Tarantino’s Masterpiece

Published January 27, 2013 by The Feminist

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I went to see Django Unchained last night and it was the most insanely extravagant, overwhelmingly violent and outrageously entertaining Tarantino film I’ve ever seen. However, he successfully balances the blood-spattering violence and sharp dialogues with the controversial historical topic of American slavery and shows the absolute horrors of the pre-abolition period.

Is ‘Django Unchained’ over the top? Of course it is! It wouldn’t be Tarantino otherwise.

Still not convinced? Jamie Foxx, Kerry Washington and particularly Samuel L Jacksons and Christoph Waltz are just absolutely brilliant!

Oh yeah, and Leonardo DiCaprio.

Shall I repeat that?

Leonardo DiCaprio!

Yes, you’ve read that correctly.

L-E-O !

If that doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what will! ( Seriously, the man could read a dictionary on screen and it would still be Oscar-worthy 😉 )

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