HOT: Comptoir des Cotonniers, 235 Westbourne Grove, Notting Hill W11 2SE

Whenever I embark on my six-monthly pilgrimage to the Paris sales, my first stop is always the nearest Comptoir des Cotonniers. I love its use of muted colours with a punch of brights, beautifully cut coats, delicately draped and pleated crepe tops and general air of Frenchy chic insouance. While I wasn't able to make it to Paris this year, its biggest store in London is right on my doorstep. Twenty minutes before closing time, I managed a focused sweep of the raft of sales racks (better than Paris at the moment probably, what with the plunging exchange rate) and came away with a swing coat, puff-sleeved top, knitted camisole and subtle sailor-striped jersey cardigan, all for ridiculously cheap Topshop prices.

HOT: Every Good Boy Deserves Favour, National Theatre, Southbank

I didn't actually get the title of Every Good Boy Deserves Favour until I realised that one of the characters (a schizophrenic who thought he had an orchestra in his head) talked only in musical terms - and of course 'Every Good Boy Deserves Favour' is a pneumonic for remembering the lines of the treble clef. I can't say that the somewhat dated plotline about a Soviet dissident imprisoned in a mental hospital, or any of the characters, really had me emotionally engaged. Nevertheless, this play gets a HOT because of two reasons. Firstly, I very much enjoyed Tom Stoppard's witty and twisting prose for the schizophrenic character, which often had me turning over a line in my head well after it'd been delivered. Secondly, the production was of a very high quality. I liked the integration of Andre Previn's music played by the full orchestra on stage, the physical dance sequence (although some of it was a bit literal 'here is the KGB beating people up') and the revolving floor of the set - a combination of stark hospital white tiles and the dim light of an orchestra pit.

HOT: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is an F Scott Fitzgerald short story turned into a curious (yes really) fairy tale of life, mortality and enduring love. Brad Pitt is Benjamin, a baby abandoned on the steps of a New Orleans old folks home because he is born old. He is raised by the good-hearted matron of the home and one day meets Daisy (a luminous Cate Blanchett), who recognises a kindred childlikeness inside his old body. Over the years Daisy grows up and Benjamin grows young, until the day they meet in the middle and begin to live out the love that they have always had for each other. That's not the happily-ever-after though. As Benjamin grows younger and younger, he realises that he cannot raise his own daughter as she and Daisy get older, so he leaves them one day. Daisy finds him back at the old folks home and proceeds to take care of him in her old age, until he dies in her arms as a baby. A touching and distinctive film.

NOT: Vicky Cristina Barcelona

I haven't been a fan of Woody Allen's films for a while, and watching Scarlett Johansson 'act' is my worst cinematic nightmare, but hey, things we do for love.

Unfortunately, my fears were realised in Vicky Cristina Barcelona. The dialogue was stiff and affected, particularly from sexually free-spirited artist Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem). Woody, could you have picked a more stereotypical male Latin-lover's name, and what kind of ridiculous things were you making him say?? Scarlett Johansson's unchanging, open-mouthed vacancy and bouncing breasts was the sum of her representation of sexually free-spirited student Cristina (or Vicky? I can't even remember). Her presence in the film moved me from boredom to frustration to giggling at inappropriate times. Rebecca Hall, played her not-sexually free-spirited friend and while she was more believable than SJ, she was still not believable in her sudden passion for Juan Antonio. The only redeeming feature in the film was not the one joke that was supposedly in it (when?) - it was the sun-drenched scenery of Barcelona and Penelope Cruz's turn as madly erratic Maria Elena. I would rather have watched her act around the Casa Mia, La Rambla, Barceloneta and Parc Guell for two hours.

HOT: Slumdog Millionaire

Slumdog Millionaire is a thrilling feel-good movie about an orphan child of the Mumbai slums who manages to win the ultimate prize on the tv show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, as well as finally winning the beautiful girl of his destiny. The colourful film switches constantly to flashback to explain how Jamal Malik's tumultous life has led him to knows the answer to every question. Throughout the film you are just rooting for him to succeed as he becomes an entrepeneur on the train tracks, escapes a life of blindness, finds work as a lowly chaiwallah and is released from prison to answer the final 20 million rupee question. Make sure you stay for the joyous closing dance sequence, in true Bollywood style.

HOT: Frost/Nixon

To paraphrase Billy Ocean - when the going gets hot, the hot go to the cinema. Hence, I've now seen every movie that I want to see at the local cinemas, and even one that I really didn't want to see.

I freely admit that I'm a political ignoramus so I didn't have any real background on Frost/Nixon except that somehow Richard Nixon was involved. As I sat through the film, I thought 'this is odd, I thought this was a true story....but it seems so improbable??'. Putting that thought aside until I could get hold of Wikipedia, I was engrossed by the story arc of louche, partying talk show host David Frost finally focusing on the job and nailing the consummate political operator Nixon to admit wrongdoing in Watergate. I thought the performances were consistently excellent from all the cast, especially Frank Lagella as the arrogant and bull-headed Nixon, and my only difficulty with Michael Sheen these days is that I will forever see him as Tony Blair (in The Queen) so I couldn't really accept him as Frost.

LDN: HOT OR NOT On Tour - Back soon!

Dear Mum, Dad and (any) other readers out there:

Happy New Year! Sorry for the uncharacteristic lapse in blogging activity. Jetsetting Joyce has been on tour for the past month and experiencing the emotional highs and lows of the existential human drama known as America's Next Top Model. I'll shortly be returning to town (and work - sob) for more decisive ratings on London's places and events. Until then, some non-location-specific movie reviews....

HOT: Daylesford Organic, 208-212 Westbourne Grove, Notting Hill W11 2RH

The Daylesford Organic empire continues its sweep through the most affluent areas of London - landing recently in Notting Hill. In fact, I almost missed its shopfront, as it sits arrogantly next to the very similar-looking 202 cafe (which is presumably aiming for very similar clientele). At 10am on crispy-cold Saturday the new kid on the block was already bustling with perfectly coiffed brunchers, so we were moved to the downstairs Raw Bar (although no raw food is served before 6pm). If you're not inspired to eat well here, as you're surrounded by cookbooks, jars of gourmet goodness and thin beautiful people, then I'm afraid I can't help you. Notting Hill residents Gourmet Chick and her regular consort James each had the eggs benedict and wild mushrooms on toast while I went for the full carb diet of potted shrimps with heaps of extra sourdough bread (free!) and a nicely chilled carob and nut milk smoothie.

HOT: The Ledbury, 127 Ledbury Road, Notting Hill W11 2AQ

Twas only appropriate that a Tranzie send-off/Brendan's early 30th birthday present should have a gastronomic flavour to it. Hence, our appointment with the one-Michelin starred Ledbury, helmed by the friendly sous chef Nathan (chef Brett was on holiday). My meal started with half a dozen deliciously soft bread rolls, scoffed down due to intense hunger and work-related anxiety. We then progressed through a three course meal interspersed with random little inter-course treats. My starter was an imaginative 'risotto' of finely diced squid and my suckling pig was perfectly crisp. My dessert souffle was preceded by a pre-dessert (I love the concept of a completely superfluous course) and then BOOM! Out came a steady stream of souffle, mini creme brulees, gingerbread cannelloni...then another souffle, a chocolate pave and a 'Happy Birthday' decorated brown sugar tart. In the face of seven (!) desserts and delicate petit fours as well, I instantly regretted my six bread rolls and broke out into a fat sweat. At the end of the eating, my desperate bid for a digestive aid meant a call for peppermint tea, and then, like the perfect Chinese restaurant, our meal was capped off with a bowl of cheerful mandarins.

HOT: Guest Night, Gray's Inn, High Holborn

An ancient town like London contains many opportunities for a history buff to delve into historic buildings and arcane traditions - but not many people get to dine in one of the Inns of Court. Happily, my friend Duncan is a barrister at Gray's Inn, and throughout the year the Inn opens up their historic dining room so that mere plebians can eat as guests of the members. The night began with Duncan ("Brooks"), Suzanne ("Mrs Brooks") and myself ("Miss Kwok") trooping into the candlelit dark wood carved interior, under the shadow of a screen from the Spanish Armada, and dressed in a gown (barristers) and 'corresponding dark formality' (ladies). Once we'd seated ourselves on one of the long benches, we dived into the brow-furrowing 5 page dining rule book, extracted from the 53-page Gray's Inn Rule Book. Its contents, inter alia: confusing toasting rituals between members of the 'upper mess' and 'lower mess'; the serving of common dishes in order of seniority; and a bizarre standoff where you're not allowed to leave the Hall between grace and the final toast of 'domus', even if you're busting for the loo. The night was capped off by the now-outlawed 'challenges' between the Madame Senior to the Madame Junior and other dobbed-in members, involving debates conducted in dulcet plummy English and singing of 'Big Spender' to the whole Hall whilst standing on a chair. Good fun was had by all but we crept out before we could be accused of opening the port before the allotted time.

HOT: Ferran Adria, Royal Festival Hall, Southbank

"Food is a language, the most universal of all." So began the theme of Ferran Adria's discussion on the role of food as part of culture, tradition and history. His famed restaurant, El Bulli, receives two million requests for 8000 seats a year (I was sadly one of the rejected this year), and while people may not necessarily agree that it is the best restaurant in the world, it is definitely the most influential. In his kitchen/labroratory (though he decries the science behind many of his creations) he has developed a new language in haute cuisine- foams, jellies, alcohol sorbets, deconstructionism and the use of liquid nitrogen. His new 'alphabet' has allowed him to construct new 'phrases', then new 'sentences', until he revealed a mouth-watering video presentation his artfully designed and gasp-inducing dishes.

HOT: Meals at The School of Life, Konstam Restaurant, 2 Acton Street Kings Cross WC1X 9NA

When you first meet someone, how do your conversations normally start? A moan about the weather? Finding out about their job? Where they live? If they're cute, sneakily deciphering their relationship status?

The School of Life aims to get people talking about the things that really matter in life - love, play, work, politics and family. At their conversation dinners (held at the chic, Heatherwick studios-designed Konstam restaurant), your three course meal includes a conversation menu - so along with your roast pork and treacle pudding you debate aphorisms and discuss intriguing questions like:

What do you think makes families happy?
Who have you encountered in your life who has really stood out and why?
If you could give one piece of advice to yourself in the past, what would it be and when would you have received it?

Even though you were talking with a group of strangers, it was only when we had finished running through the menu, revealing deeply personal confessions and anecdotes over 3 hours, that the conversation faltered. I was confronted by the banality of my everyday conversation as we fumbled around awkward silences that petered into sporadic and unfulfilling discussions about the tube, the credit crunch and Wales, unless we bid our hurried goodbyes.

HOT: Leong's Legend, 4 Macclesfield Street London

It's been my secret ambition for a while now to drag my friend Rebekah Leong to eat at Leong's Legend, if only so I could get her to pose for a photo. Even if you don't have a friend called Leong, this classy, wood-panelled Taiwanese restaurant is definitely a find in an otherwise hit-or-miss Chinatown. I'm not sure what made the cuisine particularly Taiwanese (and the waitstaff spoke Cantonese) but we stuffed ourselves with dumplings spurting with fragrant broth, sticky rice with Chinese mushrooms, super-spicy kun pao prawns, an old favourite 'ants crawling up a tree', a large creamy pancake filled with succulent oysters and tender stir-fried garlic shoots. The bill was unbelievably good value at £14 each, and we definitely could have done with fewer dishes. I'm really looking forward to going again.

HOT: La Clique, London Hippodrome, 10-14 Cranbourne Street WC2H 7AJ

I hate burlesque. However, Jen's constant raving about La Clique, plus their sell-out shows all around the world, made me think I should at least give this circus/cabaret/vaudeville/burlesque show a chance. The excited atmosphere inside the Hippodrome got me off to a good start, and I was thoroughly entertained for the next two hours with the gasp-inducing feats of the two strongmen, the stressful contortions of the double-jointed Captain Frodo, the famous bathtub act and the beautiful Ukranian hoop spinner. One of the less successful acts was, you guessed it, the burlesque number involving full-frontal nudity and a magic trick, and I really don't enjoy watching people swallowing random stuff like scissors and table legs. A fun night out on a chilly Sunday night - but I still maintain I hate burlesque.

PS The friendly usher told me that the posh seats (where you get table service) in fact get the worst views because they're next to and not facing the piano. So save your money and use your legs to get your own drinks.

HOT: The Photographers' Gallery, Great Newport Street WC2H 7HY

One of the things I love about London is that there is always something unexpected around the corner. En route to kill some time in Covent Garden, like Alice in Wonderland I stumbled on a party in The Photographers' Gallery. To celebrate the end of thirty-seven years in Great Newport Street and a move to new premises, fashionable arty types and Joe Public (like me) mingled in the backroom cafe chomping on free sultana scones smothered in strawberry jam, under the shadow of black and white photographs of Soho strippers. At 5 o'clock it got even more bizarre, as a performance artist with pink hair, dressed in a kimono-style outfit with giant crinoline pockets, proceeded to recite blank verse about walls whilst hammering stilletos to a wall, spraypainting letters and stepping in and out of pink plastic shopping baskets.

HOT: Campaign For The Titians, National Gallery

Titian's Diana and Acteon and Diana and Callisto are considered the greatest paintings in the Bridgewater Collection, and now they're up for sale. The public campaign needs to raise £50 million to buy the first of these paintings (with an option to buy the second at the same price later) to preserve their public display. I wanted to have a greater understanding of the impact and significance of these paintings, so I joined a free talk with the Director-General of the National Galleries of Scotland, the Head of Education at the National Gallery and art historian/TV presenter Matthew Collings. The most interesting aspect of their discussion was the link made between the spontaneous work style of Titian and the 'painterly' approach of Abstract Expressionism as exemplified by Jackson Pollack, and when they explained to a crotchety member of the audience why it was worth spending £50 million on a bit of canvas and paint during a recession. The dynamic and brightly hued Diana and Acteon is on display with the National Gallery's Death of Acteon until 20 November - see it while you can and support the campaign.

HOT: Southbank Centre Shop, Festival Terrance, Southbank Centre, Belverdere Road SE1 8XX

With ten minutes before my lunch booking, I wandered into the Southbank Centre Shop - and promptly fell in love with the giggle-inducing Dumbo/Domoor mugs by Richard Hutten and the elegant Art Deco stylings of the award-winning Innermost Ghost Fantome Clock. Luckily the clock was so expensive that I requested a second opinion from Huy, who informed me that he'd bought the same clock (great minds think alike with great taste) at Heals for about £30 cheaper and with an extra 15% discount for Christmas.

HOT: The All-Seeing Eye (The Hardcore Techno Version), BFI Southbank Gallery, Southbank

The latest BFI Gallery commission comes from the team behind the quirky film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the artist Pierre Bismuth and director Michel Gondry. You enter a large white room dropped with some white marshmallow cushions in the centre, then sit to watch a spinning camera project a circling image of the same furnished apartment over and over again. Nothing much seems to happen - until you notice that with each rotation the pot plant's missing, and then the chair, and then a window, and then the floor. All this is happening while Eternal Sunshine is being shown on a TV in the apartment. The gradual erasure of the room's features and furnishings looks like the work of CGI, but in fact it was done in real time off-screen, which meant little munchkin people must have been frantically running around removing stuff while the dialogue of the film kept time. Intriguing.

NOT: Cold War Modern, Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington

I was anticipating much more from the V&A's winter exhibition on the influence of the Cold War in design, film, art, architecture. For 2 hours I skimmed through the exhibition's piecemeal dip into various art forms, but I found that none of the exhibits explored any particular theme or idea sufficiently in depth to capture my attention. Some of the items were funky and unusual, but one single poster dealing with the Cultural Revolution? A couple of childish paintings? Some space suits? I don't think this is a must-see exhibition. The exhibition shop is cool though - you can buy a cardboard spaceship, an egg chair and my fun combo cutlery.

HOT: Piaf, Vaudeville Theatre, 404 Strand WC2R 0NH

When an actor is playing a real life person, it can often be hard to distinguish between a skillful imitation and when the actor is really getting into the skin of the other person. What makes the Donmar's production of Piaf so spectacular is the unnervingly convincing portrayal of the Little Sparrow by Elena Roger - a tiny Argentinian who doesn't speak French. I think she could have run the show solo - the flitting in and out of lovers, friends and colleagues all paled in comparison to her engrossing performance, which captured Piaf's firecracker spirit, creeping vulnerability and pain and above all her powerfully emotional singing, down to every sideways shoulder glance and distinctive nasal vibrato.