As bags, accessories and etiquette go, I don’t have a lot. I don’t lose my sh*t when I see 107 designer bags while power walking down Oxford Street (probably on my way to pick up some more of those fetching Primark pants of mine or one of Pret’s doughy af cookies).
I don’t dream of owning a collection so big that I have to mount a Beauty and the Beast-esque ladder to reach it – you know the one they keep in the library? I’ve never really been interested in the designer hype. I mean, if I put £200 away for five months and avoided Zara, I probably could go and make it rain in Selfridges, but at this stage in my life, I would much rather spend that money on a city break or a lavish Henry VIII style banquet where we could invite all our friends over and only eat with our hands. And we would feed each other guineafowl. I would rather spend that money on a new lens or a waffle duvet cover from M&S.
Continue reading “Unexpected Item In The Bagging Area” »
July 19, 2017
Let’s just get this very British intro done and dusted first, shall we? It is HOT. So hot in fact, you can’t walk 500 yards without thinking you’ve wet yourself due to unprecedented amounts of sweat mounting between your thigh chub. Cheers to being a woman of summer! It’s a glamorous job but someone’s got to do it.
If there’s anything this unexpected wave of oven-breath-like-heat has taught me it’s that a) I have no summer clothes and b) I have no office appropriate summer clothes. I don’t do bras *free up that nippy duo* which means introducing everyone at my work to the outline of my udders – air con I love to hate you. You drive my dandruff nuts and my make my udders shudder but my armpits sure would be clammy without you blowing a gale on them.
Continue reading “Little Sweaty Red Riding Hood” »
June 24, 2017
Want to know how to make people swear blind you’re wearing your dressing gown to a bbq IN JUNE? Wear a silky kimono, that’s how. I bought this slinky biatch before I disappeared to Bali for 2 weeks and I wore it to roam around our hotel grounds barefoot and sprawl out on the garden furniture with one hand on my brow like the real Rose Dawson. Only, instead of a pocket lumped with a 171 carat heart-shaped sapphire surrounded by diamonds, mine was more likely lumped with actual carrots, leftover from when I went to the petting zoo and climbed in with the deer to feed them. So who’s the real winner here then eh?
Continue reading “Draw Me Like One Of Your French Girls” »
June 6, 2017
I like to think I’ve got this whole stable relationship thing down, that is, except the one I have with my wardrobe. That’s not so stable. In fact, it’s as erratic as my hair washing habits. There’s just no consistency. One minute I wanna be the girl with bed head hair wearing a leather jacket, sunnies and a choker, the next, I wanna be gallivanting around with a herd of sheep in a gingham dress like Little f*cking Bo Peep. But like the cool Toy Story version, at least, that’s the vision I have in my head anyway, ha, and that’s what really counts, right?
Continue reading “Going Gaga For Gingham | Let’s Look Like Human Picnic Blankets Together” »
April 23, 2017
I’d like to dedicate this post to my décolletage, because you young lady have been hiding away under turtle necks and tights that go up to my earlobes for what seems like foreverrrr. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the area south of my chin(s) needs all the support it can get, so giving me and it a lift all the way to Spring is really, really kind of you. As much as I count myself as fully-fledged knitwear devotee, there’s only so much armpit claustrophobia a girl can take – does anyone else get that? I get it in when I’m laying down in the bath because my arms are pinned by my sides. Or, when I’m laying on one side in bed and the side-down armpit just becomes too aware that it’s trapped, face down in a pillow. It’s kind of like when you become aware that your tongue is too big for your mouth. It’s knocking around by your bottom teeth like the tide, bashing gently against the back of your incisors. Welcome back to the madness my ol’ pals, has it really only been a week since I last projected all these LCisms onto you?
Continue reading “How Bardot Can You Go?” »
April 16, 2017