There must be some kind of a grand plan to have me familiarize with the city of Brussels through briefest of stints, using – quite exclusively – my olfactory senses. It’s like one of those memory games where a card flashes a part of a photo and with every card you have to do your best to figure out the larger picture – in my case, the Brussels I know consists of: the pungent aroma of a sack of cocoa beans (with a chocolate factory attached to the end of it), the whiff of cinnamon sugar on my very genuine Belgian waffles*, and a fruity, sweet note of Elixir – the new Flower by Kenzo perfume – a note that graduates into a scent bathed in rose, and ends with a tinge of bourbon vanilla.

A couple of us girls arrived via Eurostar on a snug Autumn morning, and weaved our way through the city towards the launch of the fragrance at MAD (Mode and Design) Brussels, curated by artist Jean-François d’Or. The exhibition is a play on words and a performance of scent. A little trivia would reveal, that ‘Coquelicot’, or French for the word poppy, was oft written coquelicoq – where Coq means rooster. As a tribute, the most notable installation – “Le chant du coquelicot” (the song of the poppy) – fanned golden leaves into the air, every time the sun rose in the world. The campaign is a nod to the power of flower and celebration of peace and justice. By the dawn in Panama City, we shuffled out to catch the train home, pockets full of silk poppies doused in Elixir, leaving golden leaves dancing in our wake.

In collaboration with Kenzo

*contrary to doughy wannabe’s on Oxford Street (aka Does sir know the Heimlich Maneuver), the original proves to be quite fluffy in texture, and therefore makes sense to inhale with a layer of melted chocolate, and ask for seconds at the next block.

Coat – Versus. Leather trousers – ASOS. Bag – Celine. Top – Zara. Boots – Acne

Created for
The oompa loompas, who else.

I am currently in a 10-hour flight as I write this, wedged awkwardly between a man clearly too bulky for his seat (*cough*my other half*cough*) and a makeshift stack of deflated pillows in vain attempt to cushion the plastic wall. One pillow, in particular, looks incredibly disgruntled with very apparent embossing of my rear-end from the first three hours of flight on its face. Still seven hours to go, and these photos depicting downright comfort, tease with gusto.

Bed – Next. Pillow & duvet cover – Yves Delorme. Grey cushion & Bedside table – West Elm.

Pink towels – Yves Delorme.

Our new flat came unfurnished, and the old one detained all furniture – so for three weeks in March we retired each night, to an air-mattress on the floor – in a barren room – and contemplated more times than once, moving to the local train station/under the bridge due to ass-coldness. The very day the broadband was hooked up, we searched for affordable bed options, and found this upholstered double bed at Next with a Pocket Sprung Cool Mattress and decided to end this first world problem. Of course, if I had my way the new bed would be equipped with an in-built furnace and a hug-machine, but this grey beauty was the next best thing/ Turns out, the memory-foam mattress is now the source of the ‘Ahhhhh’ at the end of each day. A creamy duvet & pillow covers came next – and the towels. Pink, of course (a la everything else so far in the new flat), from Yves Delorme. And one by one, the flat became a home – one under-bed drawer with leftover pizza, at a time.

Wallet & Rucksack – Coach Mount Plaid Collection. Nail polish – Dolce & Gabbana. Lipstick – Bobbi Brown. Watch – Larsson & Jennings. Bracelets – X Jewellery.

Denim jumpsuit – ASOS. Rucksack – Coach Mount Plaid Collection. Boots – Sam Edelman

Jacket – Zara. Jeans – Marques Almeida. Shoes – Coach. Rucksack – Coach Mount Plaid Collection.

It’s back to school time: golden afternoons that last a minute and a half, crazy/confusing few weeks when you crave homework, and a new backpack that go with your new haircut. Coach’s Mount Plaid collection takes me into the season with its nod back to the 90’s – back when ‘homework’ did not mean 10 hours of pixel-shifting while seasons of muffled South Park stream in the background. The quintessential academia silhouette comes in red-and-black workwear plaid – a la Kristen Stewart in American Ultra, with similar attitude and gusto. Best of all, UK.Coach.com is now a fully transactional e-commerce site, which means I can now completely eliminate human interaction over the gift-buying period (win).

In collaboration with Coach as part of season’s ambassadorship.

Place Charles de Gaulle: the deathtrap of a roundabout in central Paris where twelve straight avenues cross intersect in a star-formation – a place where I have sworn I will eventually die no matter what mode of transport I’m in/how veteran of a driver may be commanding the wheel/handlebar – is possibly the best I can do to explain Fashion Month to those outside the industry. It’s that noise, the lack of traffic lanes of any sort, the uncomfortable closeness to fellow comrades marching around the roundabout, and having to manoeuvre through the full circuit without crashing into, say, a scooter, or a blithe pedestrian (most possibly a tourist – even in the metaphor) (how many a German tour group experienced a Lion King-esque streetstyle photographer stampede towards Kendall, I do wonder) trying to jay-walk his way across to the Arc de Triomphe and wreaking havoc to any conceived order in this chaos. That is Fashion Month, for me.

In this equation, London is a relative comfort zone only due to the fact that the bed is familiar and the husband is baffled IRL (instead of ‘Y U DO DIS’ goodnight messages on WhatsApp), but the chaos is as thick. Tickets are missing, Simon – my source of enthusiasm in all this – ever scrambling in pursuit of some order in chaos (an impossible feat), and of course, the new Soho venue is simply a ‘hilarity’. Between all that, the fresh, new collections are the only clear sound in the commotion, that and the Apartment – a sanctuary known to digital somebody’s in the same plight. It may hustle and bustle, but anywhere that’s stocked with burgers, nap-pods, emergency Kurt Geiger, and infinite charge-stations is a clear win in this roundabout of death. In fact it’s like taking residence in the Arc de Triomphe, which coincidentally is also one of the best vantage points of the city (Alice knows).

Here’s a scribble and a song, on the past season in London. More a scribble, because even after three weeks of supposed R&R my ears are still ringing of shell-shock. But I suppose that’s just me, getting closer to my 30’s and the bottomless barrel of excuses that come with. Call us a cab, BECAUSE I’M 30 AND WALKING IS DIFFICULT. Heck, I can’t wait to be 50.

GTG, husband’s just texted me a ‘Y U DO DIS’ from the other room.

09:10 Japanese Breakfast at Koya Bar

10:01 Soho traffic is actual comedy

10:16 Stripes = YAS. At J.JS.Lee

12:20 Picnic-chic at Mother of Pearl: Season’s Favourite

Wool-piqué top
Mother of Pearl

Twist Lock Bag
Louis Vuitton

Love Chords Bracelet
Park & Cube for X Jewellery

Platform Sandals
Kurt Geiger

Platform Sandals
Kurt Geiger

L Der Watch
Larsson & Jennings

Platform Heels
Kurt Geiger

Top – Zara. Skirt – Louis Vuitton. Trousers – Finders Keepers. Shoes – Kurt Geiger

Burberry SS16

Blazer – Each x Other. Blouse – Raquel Allegra. Bag – Baraboux

Dress, bag & Shoes – Louis Vuitton. Trousers – Zara. Sunnies – Dior.

I feel like a big part of the process of becoming an adult, is the ability to brutally edit down some very broad choices in life to an easily digestible-yet-not-so-round number of three. How many little pigs? Three. Musketeers? Three (not sure if those particular ones are life choices…). How many people in a priest, a minister and a rabbi joke? My point is, three is a catchy number, and that’s the number of takeaways I can find in my past 7-days Deliveroo log, and number of words in one of my favourite phrases: Just get naked. (Or I’m lovin’ it)

I’ve spent most of my 20’s leasing space in the beauty pouch to what would now be collectively a sizeable lipstick assortment, which, if laid side-by-side and compared, would simply divide into three categories: the everyday, classic red, and the pizazz. As shown above. The dark purple gothy glittery number doesn’t even make it into the bag.

So this is a story we shot during PFW, celebrating Bobbi Brown’s new Luxe Lip collection as one of the digital ambassadors, and also an semi-official dubbing of the three colour categories that I’ve nailed down and can now move onto my next ‘three favourites’, in the grand path of becoming an adult.

In collaboration with Bobbi Brown & Shopstyle.