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Top, Skirt, Shoes & Clutch - Alice & Olivia. Watch - Larsson & Jennings. Bangle – ASOS.

Dear skirt that hangs south of my faux-abs and forgives all sorts of dinner crime… where have you been all my life? I mean really, every meal I’ve ever had – especially in Paris – has been a two-part act of 1) arriving in jittery enthusiasm with dance moves that impress no judge, and 2) waddling out belt unbuckled and unladylike, burping the alphabet in post-meal euphoria. Alas, a maxi skirt, as pictured, means unsightly leg dance concealed within the folds of silky meringue, and the entire table worth of food – minus the plates – safely tucked into the fabric puff under the waist belt, which to curious onlookers I insist is an Alice & Olivia design feature and NOT a food baby (it is). It’s genius, and useful also in making the evening a tad more interesting because guess how many people it takes to pack a semi-drunk woman in a creampuff/ballgown skirt into a taxi?

BTW, this was the stunning Paris flat I was staying with a couple of girlfriends (Team Apartment + Reem) over Paris Fashion Week, and now that I look back I wish I’d taken more photos. Too bad we were too convinced this was our upgraded life now and that we were never going to leave, and this also explains why I kept reaching out for my ballgown get-up… 

Thank you Reem for helping with the shots!

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Jacket – Nanushka. Leather top – c/o Zadig & Voltaire. Jeans – DIY slashed Supertrash. Boots – c/o Zadig & Voltaire (or here). Bag – Saint Laurent ‘Lulu’. Matchstick necklace – FHH Accessories (similar)

It’ll have to be two measly photos for today, because somebody took a BAZILLION photos over the past few weeks and the hard drive resembles the same somebody’s equally overstuffed wardrobe with doors that hardly close anymore. Speaking of which, I usually use my eyebrow tweezers to pry out whatever’s closest to the door crack and accept that as my outfit – sometimes I manage to pull out knee-high socks and trackpants and this happens. Here are two semi-decent photos I managed to pull out from my hard drive without causing a digital avalanche, and luckily my overstuffed Paris wardrobe dealt me a good hand so I don’t nearly look like a pants monster in this outfit I wore in the last day in Paris.

Planning to tackle the bank of photos with a pickaxe starting tomorrow morning, but if you don’t hear from me in a couple of days please call Domino’s pizza and cancel my order.

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Three ways I wear Nike LunarElite Sky Hi

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Look 1: Lace dress – Zara. Sweatshirt – Nike. Shoes – Nike LunarElite Sky Hi. Clutch – Chanel. Sunglasses – Mango.
Look 2: Coat – Nanushka. Sweater – COS. Skirt – ASOS. Shoes – Nike LunarElite Sky Hi
Look 3: Cardigan & skirt – Peter Pilotto for Target (via Net-a-porter). Shoes – Nike LunarElite Sky Hi. Bag – JinYoo103684. Bag – Kurt Geiger. Turtleneck – Uniqlo. Puffer Vest – Gap.

I don’t know what it is about my late twenties but boy am I working up a collection of trainers, each bought with the same reasoning technique that accounts for the thirty bags of jumbo peanuts in our pantry: THIS MUST BE HANDY DURING THE APOCALYPSE. It’s odd because 1) I am a hamburger when it comes to exercise (i.e I do not put the ‘train’ in ‘trainer’), and 2) I held a crusade against flats

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all throughout my teenage years and stuffed tissues, not only in my bra, but in my trainers as well for the wedge effect. So I came across these Nike LunarElite Sky Hi‘s, I reasoned that yes I needed another pair of trainers because APOCALYPSE, but also revelled at the fact that it was my teenage crusade manifested (Waterbra? check), in perforated neoprene and all the essential lightweight, cushioning technology of a classic Nike running model. Plus, neon yellow because I’m biologically hazardous like that.

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Coat – H&M. Jeans – DIY slashed Supertrash. Loafers – Hudson. Bag – Couronne. Sweater – Topshop Cardigan worn backwards. Bar bracelet – Zara. Watch – Larsson & Jennings. Tiger bracelet – Kenzo. Rings – Monica Vinader.

I have but moments before the car arrives to take me and one embarrassingly large piece of luggage to Heathrow – Seoul, here I come, start heating up the food. I’m putting this up right before I run out because, if I know my mother correctly, she will compose a short but powerful message on Whatsapp reading something along the lines of those broken jeans in your blog better not be coming with you to Seoul and this time I can be all aw but I’m already in the car. No. Don’t worry ma, I’m fully anticipating to go up a dress size or even two on this trip, I’ve basically packed fifty variations of sweatpants. (엄마 청바지 꼬메지 말아쥬쎄요ㅠ) Plus, after road-testing the jeans in London and finding out getting a sore throat thanks to cold wind through the knee-holes is the very definition of irony, I’ve decided to leave it out of the packing.

On a side note, I know I’ve put this up on Facebook already but I’d really love to get some recommendations of places in Seoul – I’ve never lived there properly and the only places I know are basically the Big Ben equivalents so please do help this hipster out if you can.

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Coat – Mango. Trousers – Topshop. Shoes – Nike. Sweater – Zara. Bag – Chanel Resort ’14 (on loan, don’t be silly). Rings – Monica Vinader. Photos from help from Abi, thanks!

It’s borrowed, don’t ask. I’m flattered though, that anyone would assume I have enough speech & debate skills to convince my husband, to whom Tommy Hilfiger is couture and Tom Ford is the CEO of Ford – the car company – that spending three months’ rent on a bag (a transparent one at that) is reasonable. I can’t even convince him to shower when he’s Shrek-green. My usual tactic is throwing self down in the middle of the aisle/kitchen and crying hysterically but this only seems to work up to a certain price limit, it being £40 for sock yarn. Truth is, deep inside I don’t believe we (I say we, but I mean me) are not yet in a junction in life to warrant a brand spankin’ new Chanel boy bag. I’ve always seen luxury goods as sex: the right person, the right time. Admittedly, this blog did place me in a bit of a ho-bag tangent with some of the generous gifts, I still want to work towards a stage in life where I can afford a Chanel/Hermes/LV bag without disrupting priorities. So please forgive me if, for the time being, I can be a little cheeky and seize the opportunity when the press office allows me to borrow to ‘play with’. Play we did, generally by me wearing it under a big coat and treating it like a secret, walking around town like Aladdin stealing bread: sartorial equivalent to ‘bubble-wrap it and place in safe’.

Disclaimer – this is not a sponsored post, by any means, nor do I frequently borrow items from brands to feature in this blog. On rare occasion that I do borrow, it is enclosed so readers are fully aware.