Greetings and salutations my ravishing readers!

I am honoured and thrilled to be the travel correspondent for the global phenomenon that is emmaheaven.com. My name is Lady Perdita Fitzwilliam Tudor-Croft, Perdy to friends, Ditsy D to family and Dirty Dita to my unsavoury exes, but you can all call me Lady P.

Mirror mirror on the wall, is this Lady the fairest one of all?

Greetings my darling readers - may I take this opportunity to wish you all a happy, brand spanking new year before we get on down to the not-so-dirty business of tackling this issue's pressing predicament and thought-provoking question of: “When you look in the mirror, are you happy with the reflection that stares back?”

Strap in my darlings, as this could get a little bumpy as we address a few unseemly home truths which might hit a raw nerve or several, with the more delicate souls in our midst...

Let’s start off by being brutally honest. We get bombarded on a daily basis with a never-ending parade of [filtered] images of ‘perfect’ guys and gals ‘living their [so-called] best life’, looking a million dollars** in the latest designer clobber. Unfortunately, a lot of impressionable people fall for these fabricated illusions, but NOT this gal; oh no siree! One is more than clued up on the pitiful pretence of that prehistoric mantra - ‘fake it til you make it’. One can categorically state that that mantra is a load of old tosh, and should be despatched into oblivion.

**  A fleeting tangent if I may…But if I’m going to get stuck with a musical ear worm whilst writing this column, then so shall you my darlings! Anyone here remember that pouty peroxide power couple, Thereza Bazar and David Van Day, who made up the 80s singing duo, Dollar?? Well guess who’s trilling away at her laptop, singing Mirror Mirror?! 

Anyway, that’s enough of a tuneful topical tangent to go off on; let’s get back to those frivolous filtered feckers. Having once lived a similar charade based on the most flimsiest foundations of fantasy and fakery, one has finally managed to escape that fickle, make-believe world relatively unscathed, which has been no mean feat, let me tell you!

Turning over a new leaf after discovering that a consumer-led lifestyle, purely based on acquiring expensive (and often tasteless) baubles, trinkets and other ‘finery’, one has found that that empty existence had at best, the scantest of crumbs of true happiness or joy, leaving one feeling wretched and soulless - this yawning chasm created such a void that no amount of Versace or Vuitton could fill it - it eventually became apparent that ‘riches’ do not necessarily consist of material things!!

After such an existential epiphany, this made one even more determined to lead a far more meaningful life, with purpose and direction, although one is not quite ready to renounce all earthly pleasures or run away to join a convent! Yet…

One is no longer just wafting and drifting through life, taking handouts from gullible yet generous benefactors - which is more than can be said for a certain couple who shall not be named, but whose pictures come up if you search online for ‘moaning grifters’. They really have become quite the laughing stock - far from being the toast of Hollywood, they’ve become the [comedy] ROAST of Hollywood!! So much for gaining their independence and *checks notes* privacy…

Meanwhile, dear darling Daddy - aka the aristo ATM - is beyond thrilled that one is, in his words, “no longer a blood-sucking leech draining the bloody money and life from me and the estate’s largesse, one designer handbag at a time. And thank God you didn’t hitch your wagon to that bloody ginger whinger - bankrolling one bone idle leech has been expensive enough Dita! Poor Charlie boy - he’s going to have to pawn the family silver if he’s not careful! And the sequel to that bloody book of his should be Spare - The Rod and Spoil The Child!” At long last I’ve learnt that it really is best to leave Daddy chuntering away to himself, rather than try to engage or reason with him, otherwise we’ll BOTH have sky-high blood pressure…

Anyway, I digress…

Back to being uncharacteristically frank - or to put it rather bluntly in layman's terms, so that even the dimmest of bulbs or the perpetually oblivious will understand little ol’ moi - not even J Lo wakes up looking like J Lo! Gasp! Who knew?!

SPOILER ALERT:  She is but a mere mortal, made of flesh and blood, who has the extreme good fortune (money, power, time, status blah, blah, blah) to be able to make the most of the beauty industry’s finest inventions and innovations, with the extensive help of makeup artists, stylists, professional photographers, photoshop, PR, personal trainers and chefs etc. And I will wager you that if J Lo is on her knees, it’s not because she’s buffing the parquet flooring my darlings!!!

So now that I’ve debunked the not-so-little mystery of J Lo being the eighth wonder of the natural world - believe me darlings, some of my glossy posse are fixated on her; their fan-girling is off the scale -  let’s stop this endless, nonsensical cycle of make-believe madness, and face up to reality, by starting to accept some cold hard facts of life.

Here comes some more tough love darlings. Buckle up buttercups:

When you look in the mirror - sans makeup sweeties - learn not to grimace, cry or rant and rave. One has been profoundly guilty of doing this in the past. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder - you need to see the purity of your beauty in your reflection.

Our face tells the story of our lives - each and every line and blemish is a unique, echoing reminder of the trials and tribulations we have endured. So even if we think we don’t deserve the face that we have, let’s pause, take stock, and be grateful for several moments. Growing old is a privilege and is a gift not everyone is fortunate enough to have.

We also need to spare a thought for those brave chaps who don’t - or won’t - have the luxury of using makeup to enhance their looks, or actively avoid any overt ‘manscaping’. And yes, I know that there are products on the market specifically targeted at the gents, however, one has it on good authority from the rugger bugger boys that it’s ‘not the done thing’ to go out in a full face of makeup, or even a dab of guyliner, unless you’re on TV, in fancy dress for a Stag night, or playing a pantomime dame and the like! Sounds like moderation and minimalist manscaping haven’t entered their vocab just yet, tho give it time…

Now to get back to matters (and persons) closer to home….

When I look in a mirror there are several visions I see staring back at any given time. There’s the:

• Real, at-home Dita - no frills. Sometimes a little tired, with the odd dark circle or two, especially after a heavy night of……(not that this Lady EVER kisses and tells!) with maybe the appearance of another line or wrinkles, with the occasional spot to keep them company - tho whatever you do, resist all temptation and do NOT pop that spot. If you want to indulge in some volcanic, skin-eruption voyeurism, there are plenty of vids online to choose from! And as for one’s hair! Tres unruly hair unless it’s been tamed with a plethora of products and hair appliances; as for one’s wardrobe, it’s loose-fitting comfies and no accessories, apart from a mega-watt, chilled-out smile... 
• Work-mode Dita. Polished, professional, understated. Think bookish librarian, with a slight twinkle in the eye. Modestly dressed - no plunging necklines or thigh-skimming hemlines. There is a time and a place for business which is best not mixed with pleasure. A brief deployment of one’s feminine wiles, but nothing OTT. One wants one’s mind and acumen to be appreciated. Self-respect is paramount if one is to be a force to be reckoned with in the world of work.
• Socialite extraordinaire Dita (Lady P) - the bombshell, makeup armour applied, batting those fabulous false lashes and pouting those perfectly painted plump lips, enhanced with perfectly coiffed hair, an outfit designed to show off every spectacular curve to perfection AND an array of dazzling jewels. Tiara optional! One’s not made of wood darlings - this gal’s gotta have fun and let off some steam!

Just remember my darlings - makeup washes off easily enough - it’s what lies beneath which is the real you. Don’t get sucked into the biggest illusion, scam and the sham that are filters and photoshop on surreal social media! They can’t be applied in real life, and will only carry a catfisher so far before they will get found out!

The face you paint on is an illusion, a mask which you create for the outside world. Learn to be happy with what Mother Nature bestowed upon you and SMILE.

S = See the real you shine through.

M = Make peace with your flaws.

I = Imperfections are what make you unique. Wanna know a secret? Perfection does NOT exist!

L =  Laughter lines show how much you live and enjoy life.

E = Embrace your face - learn to love and appreciate it. It’s the only one you’ve got; unless you’re two-faced…

In the meantime, take care with the mirrors in your life and don’t go breaking any if you’re of a superstitious disposition…Quite the coincidence - or not - that the superstition of seven years bad luck shares the same number as the deadly sins, with envy/vanity amongst them.

If anyone wants me, I’ll be throwing some salt over my shoulder. No, not because I’m superstitious you silly Billy. Those tequila body shots aren’t going to get slammed all by themselves now are they darlings?!

Mwah - stay saucy!

Note to Team Heaven

I see that the awards** season has started with a vengeance. The Dita of old would have been begging for an invite to tread the red carpet, agog with excitement with preps for the season and ogling the outfits. Alas, one is now bored rigid by the whole merry go round and fakery - one can’t help wonder if the whole awards charade’s days are numbered.

** Blimey O’Riley gals - hold the front page! I must be psychic or have some sixth sense!!! No sooner than I’d written my withering critique above, about the ‘calibre’ of awards, than I read the ginger one has been ‘honoured’ with some aviation legends award!! Is ‘Airhead’ a category?! Even the retired top brass from Blighty have criticised this nonsense. Makes a mockery of the industry and an insult to that lovely spaceman, Tim Peake, whose achievements are literally out of this world... I guess awards these days are on a par with honours and knighthoods - available to any old Tom, Dick or Harry if the price is right…

Anyway, I digress…One’s finding that the less time I spend in the superficial world, and more time around interesting people of substance, the less tolerant I’m becoming of such events. I’m looking at volunteering with some environmental charities and gardening groups. Dita gets down and dirty in dungarees - Mummy thinks I should do a calendar with my new found interests, whereas Daddy thinks I should go online and get behind a paywall. He’s incorrigible!!