With winter drawing to a close and parts of his face untouched by sunlight for several months, March seemed a good time for Kaja to brave the barber’s chair and get a wash, cut and traditional cut-throat shave, courtesy of Mr. Rizzo in Covent Garden.
I was fourteen years old the last time I visited my local barber. My hairdresser laughed at my grey hair, shouted at me for having a weak neck and, despite my request to look like Freddy Ljungberg, gave me a hairdo commonly sported by national hero Pat Butcher. Safe to say, I was fairly nervous about sitting in the hot seat after ten years living in blissful ignorance of chatty men with scissors.
When I arrived at the ultra-modern salon on Upper St. Martin’s Lane, the first thing that threw me was Mr Rizzo’s magazine collection. New editions of National Geographic and New Scientist lay in amongst glossy gossip columns and lads’ mags. There was no six-month-old copy of Home and Garden, this was the real deal. After a few minutes pretending to read a magazine, it was my time to shine. I put on my man bib and I was ready for grooming. Read more
On the 18th September, Scotland will cast their votes on whether they want to grab Alex Salmond’s jam-covered carrot or remain in the sweaty arms of David Cameron. Here at Wowcher we don’t judge, if you sell your vote on eBay, we don’t mind. We love Scotland and we just want her to be happy.
We’re not gonna lie, when Alan Hansen left Match of the Day, we lost something we never thought we had. The word ‘diabolical’ would never be so beautifully uttered by anyone else, certainly not by Shearer or Lawrenson. In the words of Joni Mitchell, ‘you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone’ so let’s celebrate Scotland in all its tartan wonder, whether or not they decide to go independent on September 18th.
Apart from feral goats in the highlands and news stories about men with their heads stuck in bins, Scotland is to be loved for many reasons. If you’re not sure why then thistle clear things up: Read more
, Edinburgh activites
, Edinburgh ghost walk
, Escape Glasgow!
, Glasgow activities
, Isle of Raasay
, Supercar experiences in Scotland
, WE LOVE SCOTLAND
First thing’s first, if you haven’t already, make sure you pencil 15th June in your diary now. Father’s Day has been celebrated around the world since its origin in the USA in the early 20th Century. It’s meant as a simple celebration of the bond of male parenthood and it’s a brilliant chance to say thank you to our dads by spoiling them rotten.
As well as making the effort to spend time with your dad on June 15th, it’s high time to think about a great present too. This is where Wowcher comes in. We present to you, the ultimate guide to picking a great present for your old man (hint, don’t call him old) this year…
“Boxing is like jazz. The better it is, the less people appreciate it.” – George Foreman
I have to agree with the lean, mean fat-griller-endorsing machine on this. Boxing to me is very much like jazz – I haven’t got a clue how it works, real fans of it seem near enough mythical and I would definitely not be all that interested in having a go. Aside from the knowledge I have gathered from the Rocky movies (i.e. none whatsoever), I was and still sort of am a virgin when it comes to this, brutal, cinematic spectacle. It doesn’t strike me as a contest for gentlemen like days of old, it’s more like a contest for modern men – not just men, but manly men. Men who like to hit each other in the face. Men who buy tigers and keep them in their homes, men with a penchant for shiny suits, fast cars and going bankrupt. Men.
But I figured a slightly gentler introduction to the sport would appear in the form of the Tyson Fury charity fight night – taking place in the famous Clapham Grand. A night where people would have a few drinks, watch some dedicated sportsmen respectfully do what they do best to each other, and have the proceeds go to a good cause. While it certainly wasn’t exactly gentle, it offered an altogether more charming side to boxing to which I hadn’t really ever been exposed. Read more
No we’re not talking about a Saturday spent inside Frankie Dettori’s wardrobe, we’re talking about HOLI ONE Festival of Colour which is taking place all around the UK this summer.
Originally a Hindu celebration of harvests and fertile land, now an alcohol-fuelled rave in a UK park. Whatever the origin of this Holi festival, the spirit of bringing people together and revelling in the mid-afternoon sun is very much alive. Last summer we were lucky enough to get in amongst the powders at the iconic Battersea Power Station.
We arrived at the abandoned car park in Battersea dressed in our crispest white linens ready for our celebration of human togetherness. Once inside, we headed straight to the counter to stock up on bags of paint and then we were ready for battle. At 2pm sharp, the first countdown begun, everyone crouched down clutching their bags of blue, green, orange, yellow…3, 2, 1 and AAAAGH! Absolute chaos. Clouds of colour churned though the crowds attacking clothes and any open mouths or wide eyes. You just had to develop a taste for it as it was impossible not to smile. This process repeated itself every hour and as a result everyone became more and more indistinguishable. There was a short interlude for some traditional Indian dancing, then another countdown. People slowly realised the fun could be magnified if you mixed the paint with water and as the afternoon tired, so did the public. The regimented countdowns gradually degenerated into private paint pelting parties, big kids chasing each other around the concrete confines of Battersea car park with bottles of liquid paint. The day ended with Instagram absolutely saturated and most of Battersea looking like the crash site of two Dulux cargo trucks. A vibrant success. Battersea never looked so beautiful.
From the days of ‘What Not to Wear’ to the slightly more invasive ’10 Years Younger’, it’s a fact: the art of reinvention is always ‘in’. Yet, think of the words ‘colour chart’ and your mind will most likely conjure up dodgy shoulder pads and unforgivable yoga ensembles. I decided to discover just how far colour consultations have evolved since the Dulux days of the 80s…
Set in the Hilton’s London Metropole, I was greeted by a sprawling yet decadent 4* hotel. I’ll be honest, as someone whose sartorial inspiration is more Morticia Addams than Miley Cyrus, I was dubious about how my funeral-ready wardrobe would fare in the intimidating world of colour. Do the veins in my arms indicate a blue or yellow undertone? Am I fair skinned or just a victim of winter whitening? Enter Dotty… Read more
Most Friday nights tend to revolve around a few glasses of wine, but last week we put down the bottle and opted for an evening of back flips, bikes and a whole lot of nail-biting. Any guesses? Yep – the circus was in town and thanks to Wowcher, we rocked up eager for entertainment – and we certainly weren’t disappointed. Gerry Cottle’s circus boasts an impressive 50 acts in just 100 minutes, meaning the talented performers barely grabbed a breather in between high energy routines. From limbos of fire to impressive bungee aerobics, there was no end of variety on show, plus plenty of cringing from behind our hands as a single slip would have surely resulted in catastrophe. Our money was certainly well spent on an adrenaline-filled evening we won’t forget soon. Is it too late to re-train and run away with the circus?