The Future Starts Here

I started writing this blog following my own diagnosis with breast cancer in May 2009. Now, three years later, it's time to move on - and to give something back.

My story has been told, both on this blog and in my book The Elegant Art of Falling Apart [Hachette, Australia; Unbound, UK].

But the Chemo Chic story continues with the launch of The Chemo Chic Project.

The Chemo Chic Project is about living well, now, in this moment. It's about looking great despite our hair falling out. It's about eating delicious and health-giving food. It's about getting through the tears and laughter that each day brings, sharing the load and helping one another. 

Here you’ll find useful information on everything from tying scarves and finding natural and organic make-up, to accessing benefits to meditation techniques and simple, healthy but delicious recipes. There are also links to all of the most helpful and fantastic cancer related websites on our Address Book page.

Chemo Chic is for everyone who has experienced cancer – now or in the past. Chemo Chic is for everyone whose friend, family member or loved one has experienced cancer – now or in the past. In short, Chemo Chic is for everyone.

We want YOUR input. From your tales of wigs to recipes to make-up tips or brushes with crazy cancer cures - your experience will make all the difference to someone else who is yet to face the trauma and triumph of becoming totally Chemo Chic.

Together, we can create a brilliant resource for anyone going through the trauma of cancer. If you have a story that can inspire others, or just some good practical experience, then you have something to offer to The Chemo Chic Project. 

I sincerely thank you for your support, love and attention over the past three years. Please come over and visit The Chemo Chic Project website.


Chemo Chic is not about me, its about sharing what I've learned. Now I am asking you to do the same - Jessica Jones, founder of The Chemo Chic Project.

Congratulations!

First bit of good news that I've been meaning to tell you about:

To: Canalily

Subject: Congratulations!

Hello,

I’m writing with some exciting news, which is that Chemo Chic has made

it into 4Beauty’s round-up of the best health blogs:

http://www.channel4.com/4beauty/wellbeing/womens-health/best-health-blogs

We love your blog and are so pleased to be able to feature it on the

site.

Congrats again and Merry Christmas from the 4Beauty team.    

I am beyond pleased to be featured on their site. Channel Four's 4Beauty isn't just any old beauty website. It is, if you like, the Delia Smith of beauty sites - a gold mine of really useful basic information: make-up videos; fashion tips; how to wear lipstick and guides to creating glamorous hair styles. This is the kind of stuff that fashion magazines just don't tell us, the kind of stuff that I spent years figuring out.

My pick of the day from 4Beauty is How to Apply Mineral Makeup, something I've been meaning to write about but haven't quite found the time to do. I suggest that you read it immediately and save me the bother of writing a similar piece.

Best mineral foundations:

Inika Mineral Foundation

Jane Iredale Amazing Base

Ecotools retractable Kabuki brush

The Chemo Chic Project is Born

With the publication of my memoir The Elegant Art of Falling Apart, I feel that my personal Chemo Chic story has been told. 

It is time for Chemo Chic to take a new direction.

When I was diagnosed there was so much I did not know. I still don't know a great deal - but everything that I have learned along the way I have shared on this blog. And to me, that is the point: Chemo Chic is not about me, its about sharing what I've learned. 

Now I am asking you to do the same. 

The Chemo Chic Project has commenced and has already recruited two fantastic experts to the panel: fitness angel Melanie Metcalfe and natural beauty guru Imelda Burke. More will be joining soon. Our vision is to recreate Chemo Chic as a brilliant resource for anyone going through the trauma of cancer. If you feel you have a story that can inspire others, or just some good practical advice, then we would love your contribution.

We are looking for guest blog posts which are:

• Useful
• Practical
• Positive
• Well written
• Well researched

You may be going through cancer yourself. You may be a partner, friend or family member of someone who is going through it. You may have had cancer in the past. You may have unique insight as a doctor, nurse, nutritionist, therapist, chef or hairdresser. Your story might be about a day in your life; any aspect of your cancer journey or your experience as a partner, friend or family member of someone going through cancer. You could include photos, illustrations, videos or links. No story is too small but it has to be yours. 

Chemo Chic is about living well in the face of cancer. We are particularly interested in posts that cover the following areas:

• Recipes and food 
• Natural beauty and cosmetics
• Wigs and hair tips and stories
• Clothing, hats and scarves
• Fitness and exercise
• Complementary therapies
• Relationships with partners, family and friends

What we are not looking for:

• Advice giving (but do relate your own experiences)
• Medical advice (unless you have specific expertise in this field)
• Miracle cures (unless you have genuinely experienced one yourself)

Send your proposals and submissions to chemochic@o2.co.uk. Please share this with anyone who you know who you think has a great story to tell or a useful tip to share.

Many thanks and looking forward to reading your posts. Now get writing!

Jessica Jones

‘Canalily’

Top Chemo Glamour Tips

At first, you may feel that you want to decline every social invitation. And that is perfectly fine. You are ill and you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.

Cancer really knocked my confidence. I shied away from groups of people, particularly people that I didn’t know. At first I was nervous to go out. Would my turban slip off in the middle of dinner? Would people snigger at my wig? Would I suddenly throw up all over the floor? Would I find myself feeling exhausted and be unable to get home easily?

These are real considerations. Little by little I learned how to pace myself and handle daily challenges. My confidence grew. One day I realised that I was ready to go to a party. But I needed the right outfit, one that would be comfortable yet glamorous, an outfit that would say “here is a self-posessed, stylish woman,” not “Hey! Look at that poor cancer victim”

Here are some tips:

If you’ve had surgery your body image has probably suffered. Forget about the Dolce & Gabana corset dress. Choose something loose and drapey that uses beading or sequins to catch the eye. Think palazzo pants with a silk shirt or a beaded jersey dress. Chikara creates stylish asymmetric clothing that go a long way to disguising uneven boobs.  A long silk kaftan will cut a dash a black-tie event.

Chemotherapy can cause sore feet. Patent leather, jewelled or satin pumps are every bit as glamorous as six-inch stilettos.

A silk or velvet turban is an absolute showstopper. Glam it up with a glittering brooch.

Keep the spotlight on your face and neck by wearing dramatic lipstick and chandelier earrings.

And remember: if you feel ill or tired or overwhelmed you can simply leave. Nobody will think you’re being rude.

Say it With Flowers

Questions of finance are exercising my mind... How am I going to eat and pay my bills and health insurance whilst I work full time on my book?

Photographer Jessica Jones is kindly offering a very special price on her sublime flower prints – a perfect mother’s day gift.

Fresh flowers epitomise the beauty of impermanence, but these delicate flower photographs will endure for a lifetime.

These are signed, archival giclée prints on fine art paper. Image size approximately 10"x12" on paper size approximately 12"x16".

Order now for the special price of only £50.

All proceeds will go to help keep the organic carrot juice, petrol and electric light flowing whilst I canter for the finishing line writing my book.

To order, please email: chemochic@o2.co.uk.

Here is your chance to give real practical support to Chemo Chic.

Blue Ranunculus

Pink Peony

White Ranunculus 1

Black Ranunculus

Brown Ranunculus 2

Bus Rozes

A Short Interruption to Our Transmission

Wish I was here...

I am taking a break from Chemo Chic.

The deadline for delivering the manuscript of my book is the middle of May and I still fell as though I’ve only just started it!

I won’t be able to write to you with any regularity until the beginning of June. But I am hoping to post some fantastic guest blogs from time to time, so stay tuned.

Love

Canalily

New Year, New Chemo Chic

Ha! I know what you’ve been thinking: “Now that Lily’s hair is 20cm long she's so busy swooshing it about all over the place that she doesn’t have time for me any more. Well maybe I shall just go off and start reading another blog."

No so fast my fickle friend. I’m still here.

I do truly apologise for being so inattentive over the last few weeks. First it was Christmas and then, if I’m honest, I was so relieved to see the back of 2010 – possibly the worst year of my life – that for a while there I didn’t want to even think about this blog or anything related to breast cancer or Nasty Nick.


Since the new year I've been working on my book and a secret new blog - which I will tell you all about, soon – then, as you may notice if you look around you, redesigning Chemo Chic (please tell me what you think).

But my absence from Chemo Chic has thrown into sharp focus a fact that I have been aware of for some time: that I cannot do it all on my own.

And really, why would you want me to? For me, Chemo Chic has so far been a vehicle for sharing what I have learned along the way - things that I wish I’d known back at the beginning. Yes, I’ve learned a lot but I’m not some kind of oracle who knows it all. To be properly diverse and continually helpful, Chemo Chic needs your input as well as mine.

It has long been my wish that Chemo Chic would not be simply the story of Lily, rather, that my experiences with breast cancer would serve as a jumping off point. I really want to develop Chemo Chic into an online hangout for all women (and men!) with breast cancer. I don’t mean a forum where we go to have a moan or tell one another what to do. Nor do I mean a useful and worthwhile information site with the answers to all our BC related queries, like Breast Cancer Care.

No, I want Chemo Chic to simply be more of what it already is: How to be fabulous when you’re bald and feeling sick-as-a-hungover-dog; how to tie a turban; to shave or not to shave?; make-up tips; wig information; how to stay fit; what to wear to the chemo suite and cancer-busting recipes. In other words: a guide to surviving breast cancer with style.

If you have found a parabens free beauty product that you love, or have a recipe for a non-dairy dessert, or a top tip on where to get wigs, or you simply have a great story to tell about your own experience or you sister’s your mother’s or your best friend’s then please email it to me and I will publish it on Chemo Chic (photos are also welcome).

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Love

Lily

x

p.s. Wishing you a wonderful year in 2011 

Harley Street Style

It’s Friday and I’m back at the Harley Street Clinic, my home-from-home. I strip off and, before Mr Hadjiminas can say anything, I tackle the obvious controversy head on. “I’m not wearing the compression bra today. I’m fed up with it.”

“But I’ve brought this,” I add, brandishing the big stretchy bandage, “I thought maybe we can cut it in half and I can wear it just below my breasts.” 


I’m not asking. 


“No, that won’t work,” says Mr H, “the best thing would be to cut two holes in it.”

“What,” says Honoria, like something you’d get in a sex shop in Soho?”

“No. Well. Hmmm...” says Mr H, “...and bring us some photos when you’ve done it” He jabs a syringe full of steroid into my back.

Re-dressed I join the medics on the other side of the screen. “So, what’s next?” I ask. “Come back and see me in three or four weeks,” says Mr H. “Then I’m due back in November for another mammogram and stuff,” I say. “Yes that’s right,” he says. “Phhhht,” say I, expelling air through pursed lips. Then I feel bad, “It’s not that I don’t love you,” I hasten to explain. “I know,” says Mr H.

As I’m walking out the door Mr Hadjiminas calls me back. “Lily, if you need another one of those bandages let me know and I will get you one.” “What,” I say, “do you think I’m going to bugger it all up with the scissors? I did go to fashion college you know.”

Help Needed

I need a smart (preferably smarter than me) and capable intern to help me with Chemo Chic, the book. The work is mostly typing up transcripts and doing online research. It is based in West London but quite a lot could be done from home. No £££ but I can provide travel fares and a healthy lunch. Your own laptop would be a definite plus.

This will be great experience working on a real book for publication.

If you’re interested please email me: chemochic@o2.co.uk. 

Please include:

·    Your first and last name and your email address

·    Why you would like to intern on Chemo Chic

·    If you have a blog, the name and URL

• Your work and education history
• Something you’re really good at

Finding Beauty

                                          photograph by David Jay

In this blog I have written a lot about wigs and dresses, lipstick and nail varnish, bras and bikinis. I believe that these seemingly mundane things are important tools that have helped me to maintain a sense of my own identity.

But becoming Chemo Chic is not a matter of desperately trying to stay the same as we were before. Following a diagnosis of breast cancer many women must face searching questions: “How can I possibly look beautiful without my hair? How can I feel feminine without my breasts? How do I find a way to step into my new reality?”

We need to redefine what beauty is.

The SCAR project shines a light on women who have suffered the ravages of breast cancer. It is the light of courage in the face of a dreadful unknown. In a series of compassionate yet unflinchingly raw images photographer David Jay examines women’s vulnerability, their pride, their sadness and their dignity. And by showing these women’s true selves he reveals their essential beauty.

Chemo Chic Needs You!

Chemo Chic is to be a book! Not a monologue about the perils of Canalily but a practical book about surviving cancer with style. In order to make Chemo Chic -the book as useful and comprehensive as possible I want YOUR input. Everything from your experience with wigs and bras to recipes to make-up tips or brushes with crazy cancer cures. If you have a story to share please email me: chemochic@o2.co.uk. Your experience will make all the difference to someone else who is yet to face the trauma and triumph of becoming totally Chemo Chic.

What a Nice Surprise

Chemo Chic has been mentioned in the Times article "40 Bloggers Who Really Count".

I'm so proud.

Sommers Bay Beach Fashion

In Tasmania it is thirty-six degrees. Unheard of! All around mum’s house grow spiky sand-grasses called ‘Sags.’ I know from experience that I am allergic to Sags. They bring my feet out in an angry, itchy rash. So on the way through from the airport we stopped off in Sorrell to pick up a pair of knee length socks. Teamed with the rashie, Crocs and a pair of 1970’s boy’s swimming shorts I think this outfit represents a new frontier in beach Chemo Chic.

Farewell but not Goodbye

I nearly left without saying goodbye. My head is full of visions of Love in a Camper Van and other forthcoming sitcoms starring Lily and Nick. The suitcases are zipped shut. The fridge is clean. Jamie is on his way over to lug the cases and drive me off to Heathrow.

I feel as though I’m wrapping up my year of cancer too. On Tuesday I had my final appointment with Dr Coulter. To make her day I wore a Bella Freud knitted dress with ‘GIRL’ written across the front. “Yes well, we won’t forget what you are, Lily,” said Dr Coulter, dry as ever. Yesterday I saw Mr Hadjiminas for the last time this year. “Your DNA test shows that you have both the pairs of genes that indicate that Tamoxifen will be good for you,”* he announced, beaming.

I already have the Tamoxifen in my suitcase. Dr Coulter suggested that I start taking it two weeks after I get to Australia. “At least have a bit of a holiday first,” she kindly advised. I intend to.

Mr Hadjiminas then drained some bloody fluid out of my back. “Bring a pot Honoria,” he cried, “there’s plenty here.” I tried not to wince. Mr H squirted the liquid into the pot. “At least a quarter of a pint. Terrific,” he pronounced with a satisfied tone. “I’ve read Your Life in Your Hands’ by Jane Plant, I told him. “I’m giving up dairy. What do you think about that?” “I’m the wrong person to ask,” Mr H replied, “I like cheese.” “What should I do if my back swells up again?” I asked. “Nothing. Don’t let anyone touch it,” shot back Mr H. “If it’s really bad you must see a plastic surgeon. Your chest wall is about this far from your lung,” he held his forefinger and thumb very close together.

I went around the hospital distributing Christmas cards. Bess and Karen gave me big hugs and showered good wishes on my head. So it just leaves me to wish you a very peaceful, happy Christmas and a spectacular year in 2010. This year was interesting but I'm not ready for another one like it. Thank you for being with me through the last few months.

I had always thought that when the chemo ended, so Chemo Chic would end too. But now I realise that the story is much longer. Chemo Chic is not just the tale of getting through cancer it’s about living life after cancer.

What happens next?

*I neglected to tell you about the DNA test that I had last week. Maybe I will catch up some missing parts of the story as I’m lying on the beach.

Hairy Moments

People are getting in touch all the time with their own tips, advice and experiences. I only wish I’d known half of this stuff back in summer when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had no clue as to where to begin. I knew no-one who had been through it.

Everything happens so quickly. One day in May I was told I had cancer. A week later I had surgery. Three weeks after leaving hospital I commenced chemotherapy. Friends put me on to friends of theirs but I was too overwhelmed, afraid and it has to be said, ashamed, to ask for any useful advice.

But that is why I started Chemo Chic.

I felt horrified and bereft at the prospect of my hair falling out. Back BC, I had a long, thick mane of glossy auburn. My hair was my crowning glory, so much a part of me. Losing it was losing a piece of my identity. The day that my hair came out in my hands I cried and cried. I felt so powerless in the situation.

So I am delighted to pass on to you the following brilliant strategy from Andrea, writing on the Chemo Chic facebook page. Before being diagnosed with cancer, Andrea had bum length dreadlocks. She had grown them for eleven years. Everybody knew her as “Andrea with the dreads”. You can only imagine how much a part of Andrea’s identity those dreadlocks were. Faced with the prospect of having her hair ‘taken’ by chemo, Andrea decided on a preemptive strike. She organised a huge party and invited all her friends. The culmination of the event was Andrea having her head completely shaved. In the process she raised over £700 for Breast Cancer Care. Andrea writes that she did not shed a single tear as her hair was removed.

Now, I know that Andrea will have down days and there will be tears to come. But the ability to turn adversity on its head will give her strength to make it through the ordeal to come. Given the choice none of us would have Breast Cancer at all. But we don’t have that choice. The only choice we have is to get through it with grace and courage or to get through it kicking and screaming. I have had my share of bleak moods and crying jags but I hope that on most days I have chosen to see cancer from a positive perspective.

Now I’m sitting here running my fingers through a fabulous thatch that's at least half an inch long all over. I think it may be time to colour it. Mum advises me to use a chemical free vegetable dye. Wanda says that vegetable dyes are rubbish. Naturally, I agree with both of them. I'm just pleased to have such a high-class problem.

Chemo Chic Going Cheap

I wrote a piece a couple of days ago highlighting some of the great small businesses that have contacted me to let me know about their products and services.

Emma, of Me & Em, emails to say that several readers have been on her website making enquiries about her lovely loungewear. So, she says, she would like to offer a 15% discount to any Chemo Chicadees. Yes please!

Here’s how to get the discount: Go to the Me & Em website then ‘simply type the code CC09 into the promotional box at checkout before entering you payment details.’

An Amazing Day

This has been an amazing day. I’ve had so much good feedback and many positive comments about the Times article, from friends and strangers alike. It has been quite confronting for me, especially the photograph. But I think it has achieved its purpose.

Today is the anniversary of my cousin Gaby’s death. Talk about synchronicity.

I have lit a candle for Gabs. Later on my cousin Ben and his daughter Amazon Rainforest will come over and we will all have dinner together.

Gaby

Chemo Chic Has Arrived

I pop down to the corner shop wearing a cashmere hoodie and no make-up. I pick up five copies of the Times. The owner gives me a big smile. “You look different,” he says, “what have you done?” “I’ve got no hair,” I reply. “You’ve cut your hair?” he asks. “No, it all fell out,” I answer, lifting my hoodie a fraction to show him. “Oh,” he says, “how did that happen?” “I’ve had cancer. The treatment makes your hair fall out.” I reply.

It feels odd but positive to be talking about it so casually, as if it were the weather. But it has taken a long time and a lot of blogging for me to get to the stage where I’m not ashamed to tell strangers that I’ve had cancer. One of the reasons that I started writing Chemo Chic was to try to get past a lot of the secrecy and shame that still haunts this all-too-common illness.

Back at home, I settle down with a nice cup of tea to read the Times. If I have had any qualms about sharing my situation with strangers I’d better get over it pronto. On the cover of the Weekend section there is a full-page photo of me with no hair.

If you can’t get hold of the Times, the article is also on Times Online but without Lizzie Fleetwood Hartnoll’s wonderful photographs. http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/article6876701.ece

A Big Day for Chemo Chic

Get the Times tomorrow. There will be an article about Chemo Chic in their Weekend section, featuring one of Issy’s fabulous photographs on the cover.

For readers not in the UK, it should be in the Times Online. I will post a link.

Trendsetting, Chemo Chic Style

Crocs n’Socks is catching on. Yesterday I bumped into my friend Katie who is a top fashion stylist. “That’s a great look,” she said, “where did you get those Crocs?” I beamed with pride and gushed, “I got them at Payless Shoes in Hobart.” “Oh,” replied Katie, looking a touch crestfallen, “They would look better with stripy socks. The Natural Shoe Store has some lovely ones in at the moment.”

I am a great believer in taking expert advice if it is offered, be it from a leading oncologist or a leading fashion stylist. In pre-celebration of my final chemo I stopped by the Natural Shoe Store and purchased two pairs of thick, warm, stripy socks. One pair in lime green and fuchsia, the other in black and grey. For good measure I then paid a visit to No. 242, the Indian shop on Portobello Road to buy a new scarf to go with my fabulous new Bella Freud jumper. “I’ll give you three for £13.50,” the man said. “Ok,” said I.