It's been a week since the Panorama documentary on Primark aired, so I think enough dust has settled for me to comment on what happened afterwards. But first, here is a clip of our five minutes of fame. We were featured again at the end, but you get the idea...



On the plus side, I think Isabelle, Abi and I come across as having a good knowledge of our subject. I'm grateful to the Panorama editors for picking out bits of footage that make us seem fairly intelligent, even if we were just 'frenzied fashionistas'. I thought the documentary addressed a difficult subject in a very interesting way, opening it up for discussion across the industry.

The problem is, I was contacted about this documentary through work, in a professional capacity. I was asked to give my views as a fashion insider, not as a 'fan' of Primark. I wasn't expecting to be lumped in with the teenagers on YouTube who post video diaries. The videos I shoot are part of my job and I was contacted through that channel, as a professional. We even filmed in the same location.

This is where it gets tricky. Despite all this, Catwalk Queen, Hippyshopper and / or Shiny Media were given no credit on the show. Our full names were given, yes, but your average TV viewer is not going to google a name to 'check' if someone has a website.

Three of us took three hours out of our workday to film, yet we were offered no fee and given no credit. It's no surprise my bosses were a bit pissed off. Not only did our company get nothing from this, but my head was on the chopping block too, for being naive enough to think that the BBC would credit the sites or the company without us having to ask.

The aftermath began when Ashley, a director of the company I work for, wrote a rant about the whole affair on the Shiny Media blog. The story was picked up by various other blogs, and eventually by the Media Guardian. Eventually, we got an apology from the editor of Panorama, which I was very grateful for. It was definitely a turn up for the books. You see, after placing a tiny link to Catwalk Queen on the very bottom of a page on the Panorama website (after I chased it up - this was discussed) subsequent emails from my colleague Abi were ignored.

So to Sandy Smith I say thank you for recognising that a mistake was made. I hope this is a lesson to all of us for the future. To bloggers - don't be afraid to ask for credit, a fee or both. To the BBC - don't underestimate or undermine bloggers. They have more power than you realise.

Yes I'm on the telly. Please direct your comments here.

All together now...*SQUEEEEEEEE*

[via Planet Gallifrey]

If you thought I was done with the Isle of Wight Festival ramblings, you were wrong. So very wrong.

On Sunday night, after a very apt warm-up from their nervous fans The Kooks, The Police took to the stage for their second to last performance in the UK ever (or at least until Bob Geldof or someone pulls them out of retirement to do a charity gig).

They were, of course, bloody brilliant. As I said before, I was raised on a diet of alphabites, spaghetti hoops and Sting, so seeing them live was a real experience for me. What really surprised me was the amount of people the same age as me or younger who also knew all the words to everything. Not just Message In A Bottle and Roxanne, but the more obscure stuff too. There are obviously lots of dads out there starting their kids young.

There was a moment of Sting-ishness, when the big screens during Invisible Sun showed pictures of deprived children in the third world instead of Andy Summers playing guitar, but I think when you're as amazing as the Police you can afford to do whatever the hell you want. If John Lydon can call people 'homos', you can't stop Sting from pimping out a good cause.

The highlights? The whole audience singing along to the encore performance of 'Every Breath You Take', and all the couples getting all loved-up to a song that's technically about a stalker. Don't Stand So Close To Me, because it rocks. Everyone shouting 'Eeee-yoooooo' to the refrain of 'Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic', and a surprise performance of 'King of Pain', another favourite of mine.

No Synchronicity II though, but a girl can't have everything.

So (argh, I hate blogs that begin with 'so') I went to the Isle of Wight festival this weekend. It was three days of surprisingly sedate fun, with some amazing performances and wayyy too much food.

The joy of having an ex-housemate who lives on the island is that I got all the fun of the festival without having to go anywhere near a tent for the whole weekend (except to buy drinks). That meant fantastic hosts, a comfy bed, hot showers, pains au chocolat in the morning and cupcakes in front of Doctor Who in the evenings. All in all, a brilliant weekend.

Oh, and there was some music, too.

I was there mainly to see The Police, of course. Dad bought me up on Sting and The Police, so seeing them in the flesh was absolutely amazing after 25 years of listening to their music (I reckon there was a bit of 'Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic' played to me in the womb). Of course, they closed the whole festival, so before the big finale I had three whole days of indie, pop and retro goodness. Here they are in a nutshell:

Friday:
Jumping around singing "this is NO BRIDGET JONES" to the Wombats was great. Their whole set was singalong heaven, and all the girls wanted the t-shirt because it had the same cute Wombat on it as the stage backdrop. It was also much fun doing mock scouse accents throughout. I feel I can get away with it because I'm technically 1/4 Scouse (or something like that).

The Hoosiers were as fun as we expected them to be. Drummers in Spiderman suits, lots of running around energetically, etc etc. Irwin (the brilliantly named lead singer) was a complete sweetie and I may just have developed a tiny little crush on him. The music...I could take it or leave it normally but live it held up to the competition.

KT Tunstall was...er, KT Tunstall. She tried to make nice to the audience by teaching them to body pop. Not a good idea when N.E.R.D are on next.

Ah yes, N.E.R.D. Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid, though I did dance lots to 'Nobody Nose' and 'She Likes To Move'.

And finally, The Kaiser Chiefs. Ricky wasn't on his usual banter-ish form, but the performance was still wicked. Even if you wouldn't sit down and listen to their albums, you can't beat them for crowd-rousing anthemic festival goodness. Nobody can resist the opening riff to 'Every Day I Love You Less and Less' when they're in a field with 50,000 other revellers. Fact.

Saturday:
The least appealing day to me because I don't like Iggy and The Stooges or the Sex Pistols. I'm not going to rant too much, but to me Iggy is just an old man with Jennifer Aniston hair shouting into a mic and gyrating on stage. The Pistols...well Johnny 'I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here' Rotten came on, insulted all the other bands, spouted out homophobic crap, called the Police 'bumholes' and insulted the sound man. He also sang a bit, but it was overshadowed by the silly, forced anarchy. I did not need to hear him talking about how Gazza is 'one of us'. Whatevs.

The only band I actually enjoyed on Saturday was The Zutons, who really rocked the crowd, and - surprisingly - the Sugababes, who played in the 'Big Top' tent. It was way too small for the huge crowd they drew and we ended up outside being pushed and shoved, but it was still entertaining. I wouldn't have them down as a festival act, but by the end a good few thousand people were bouncing up and down singing along to 'About You Now', including a fair few dads. This set also got the heckle of the week, some blokes shouting "Come on Geri, and Sporty...".

Sunday:
This is what it was all about for me - The Police, The Kooks, Starsailor, Scouting for Girls...all brilliant, and there was a surprisingly enjoyable set from acoustic-folksy bloke Newton Faulkner. I'd never really paid much attention to him before (he seemed a bit dreary even for my American teen drama soundtrack record collection) but he really won over the crowd. He had amazing skills with the guitar, a little 'dance routine' to go with one of the songs, and treated us to an absolutely fantastic cover of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Scouting for Girls were really popular, with everyone singing along to Elvis Isn't Dead and She's So Lovely, but what I really adored is that they sang the two real 80s child songs from the album - The Mountains of Navaho (complete with complete He-Man intro) and Michaela Strachan. I'd forgotten how much I loved their album when I listened to it incessantly about six months ago.

Luke from The Kooks was even more monosyllabic and slurred than usual, leading me to ask the others if he was excited, stoned, drunk or all three. Whatever, he still managed a pitch perfect performance. They did more stuff from the new album than I expected, but still managed to sneak in my fave - Eddie's Gun - and get everyone dancing to She Moves in Her Own Way.

And then The Police. So good I think they deserve a post all of their own tomorrow...

Today was one of those rare fashion-filled days that make my job seem far more glamorous than it actually is. I started it with a round-table breakfast interview with Gok Wan. He was fantastic. Exactly how you'd imagine he'd be - warm, funny, charming - but a little bit more relaxed and laid-back than he is on the telly (of course). He's the ultimate people person, which is really intriguing to watch since I'm crap with new people.

After that, I had a few hours in the office before heading down to the final day of Graduate Fashion Week. It's been a bit mental this year and I've only managed to see a handful of shows, but I think between three of us we managed to get coverage of just about everything. The less said the better about the fact very little of that coverage is actually up yet. Slight teething problems, shall we say.

I know this makes me sound old, but I cannot believe it's already halfway through June. I feel like this year has passed me by so quicky so far. Granted, I spent just under a month of it in Australia and that feels like years ago, but apart from that, I can barely tell you what happened to March, April and May. They went by in a haze of calories and Catwalk Queen, obviously.

On that note (yeah, thought you'd escaped me my neverending circle of weight issues, didn't you?) I've caught myself saying 'I just haven't had time because of all that's been going on' and 'it's just been so mental I've not had the chance' so often recently that I've decided a really strict plan of action is in order. I need some kind of structure to get me back on track so I think a cold-turkey approach is the only option. This time calls for no booze, no unnecessary events where they serve booze, three gym trips a week and good old Paul McKenna brainwashing me every night.

He can make me thin, you know...

Dear people who organise the Isle of Wight Festival and Hard Rock Calling...

Hi! I'm coming to your festivals! Isn't that wonderful?!

Apparently, I'm what the world of web 2.0 calls a 'tastemaker'. This is because I'm an 'early adopter' with a 'cult following'. The site I created (not this one, obviously) gets a few hundred thousand unique visitors a month. And by 'a few hundred thousand' I actually mean 'half a million'. Imagine that!

Anyway, I'm quite influential because of that, so if either of you would like to organise it so I can come and drink free booze in your VIP sections, that would be just lovely.

And also, Hyde Park Calling person, I would also really like to meet Jason Mraz. And John Mayer. I'm sure you can sort that out, right?

lots of love, Gemma

NB. Joke, obviously. Though I am going to the festivals and, well, um...yeah.