Bestival, Isle of Wight

The glitter bar, where you inhale glitter and sneeze out a tinkerbell

 Wearing: Wax jacket – Barbour. Crop-top – Fairground. DIY Crop-jeans – Zara. Balloon skirt – ASOS. Sneakers - Isabel Marant. Wellies – Barbour. Red cord sweater – Barbour. Bag – Barbour explorer. Water bottle – Sigg. Lace bunny ears – ASOS

When it comes to music I have not put the ‘pop’ into popular for many years now, when my music-to-world synchronization decided to just stop altogether circa 2006 – I think it was exactly when Justin Beaver started talking. Now I put the ‘pop’ in missuz kebab-store hippopotamus and revel at knowing all the words of a TV show theme tune. It seems today that all you see is violence and movies, and sex on TV, but where are those good ol’ fasioned values on which we used to rely? Tha alarm from my Uniqlo ‘Wake Up’ app is my next favourite track. In fact, I should compile some of this into a Spotify playlist – might make you ill, but I promise you’ll feel a whole lot better with your taste in music…and your life, really. So why a music festival? I realised that I must be missing out in something seeing how Bestival is considered one of Britain’s best summer pasttimes, and by going, secretly hoped for a reinfusion of my long lost music appetite. Appetite for burgers and un-Englandy hot weather, I did find, and lots of happy people dressed in giraffes and ant eaters (the theme was Wildlife, alas). If according to a certain mean girl, ‘Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it’, then Bestival is the one time a year when people can dress like 3rd grade Halloween and everyone will compliment your costume. I personally suited up in what I’d always understood as festival uniform: A pair of Barbour wellies, waxed jacket, snuggly cable-knit arriving at the seaside, but by the time we were leaving I really wanted to buy an elephant mask to show I’ve also been there and that it was actually super fun.

Thank you Barbour for taking us to such appropriate grand finale for summer! Also check out – my What to pack for a Festival guest post for the Barbour blog.

Tokyo, last day

Stella McCartney Falabella pouch

Rose-gold watch, GUESS.

Shoes, Alexander Wang via Vestiaire Collective. Watch, GUESS.

Floral top - Zara. Belt – LV via Vestiaire Collective. Shorts – DIY cropped black jeans from Zara. Sheer balloon skirt – ASOS. Shoes – Alexander Wang via Vestiaire Collective. Bag- Bottega Veneta.

Last day of Tokyo: 9,000 windows and berries for breakfast; ¥8,150 left in my pocket to buy presents for hubby, ¥500 left after a trip to Comme des Garcons, 20 minutes to meet a Japanese friend for coffee at the BVLGARI cafe in Shinjuku, 15 minutes to shop in a twelve-storey Uniqlo (impossibru), 5 new types of sushi tasted at lunch, 4 new favourite types of sushi, 2 minutes fitting the Prada flagship store designed by Herzog and de Meuron into sight while passing by in mini-bus, 1.5 cats seen in total (0.5 = tail and a spotted leg), 1 minute pondering what the Japanese word is for ‘STOP’  as the airport car passes by a Issey Miyake Pleats Please, 0% eagerness to enter homebound plane.

That about sums it up! Thank you Perrier-Jouët once again for a wonderful experience.

Marc Jacobs Wellington

Cashmere sweater, Muriee. Boyfriend Jeans, ASOS. Booties, Sam Edelman Rowin. Specs, YesStyle, Bag, Marc Jacobs Wellington

Just a quickie before I go tip a huge bowl of rice crackers from the lounge snack-bar into my boyfriend jeans for the 8am flight back home. I’m wearing the exact pair now and by happenchance caught a glimpse of my reflection at Tokyo Narita airport and honestly thought it looked like I pooped me pants. In a good way, like, you-ain’t-gonna-pat-me-down-there-surely type of convenience. Anyhow, this is probably not the outfit to be posting while on a layover in 35ºC+ (95ºF) Dubai, but I’m quickly learning that it’s not summer in London if there isn’t at least one piece of cashmere in a July outfit, so to heck with it. This Muriee piece is another one of those that fly on and off the couch with an indecent wash vs. wear count ratio, with a shape so boxy that so effectively conceals all stages of le food baby. My favourite bit is the fact that the cashmere is dyed with berries and leaves, brownie points for eco-friendliness!

Shot in London before leaving for Japan; Thank you Kit for helping with the snaps.

Sandals, Dune

V-neck tee, YesStyle. Heels, ASOS Sienna. Boyfriend Jeans, ASOS. Headphones, Urbanears. Brown satchel, ASOS. Leather Bracelet, COS. Watch, GUESS (Have you entered the GUESS One to Watch competition!?), Gingham bike-seat, YesStyle; Photos on rows 4,5,6,7 taken for Editer feature

Pop quiz: What does Ceviche, iced lemonade on a humid day, 2-for-1 sale at Sainsbury’s and cushioned flats during LFW have in common? Answer: The ’Ahhrrrhhhhhhhhhhh‘ from an angelic choir that fill your head and relieve your stress-bar of gremlins and oafs (oaves? no). It’s one of those difficult-to-explain things that forces you give a vague explanation but also allows you to witness that rare surprised look on your ever-sceptical dining buddy as the first fork goes in – you know – the subtle hop of eyebrows and the curt nod before he catches your eyes and says ‘yeahhh it’s alright’. Pah, men and egos. Personally, when I had my first bite while shooting for Editer not only did I join in with my angel choir with a high-pitched medley (think ‘Oh Happy Day‘) but there was also hooting and banging of spoons on the table some. It’s that good. And as far as vague explanation goes, Ceviche (of Peruvian kitchen) – is basically raw fish and seafood marinated in spicy citrus juice, or what they call Tiger Milk. I obviously had a brief moment of imaging milking a tiger and thinking THAT’S RIDICUWOOS, but a sip of it induced another angelic ‘Arrhhhhhhh‘ plus a happy tiger roar and then I understood why the name. So there you have it, a perfect birthday lunch with le hubby. (Bday is actually the 4th but since every year I’m busy counting fireworks [FOR ME!?] we decided to celebrate earlier.)

Speaking of birthdays and delights, got some fun news from the lovely folks at Motilo: An opportunity to win a ridicuwoos amount of dosh to spend at NET-A-PORTER.COM. I have my eyes on a certain PS1 classic or contents of a full suitcase to take to Japan next week. In fact, the competition ends on the 10th of July and that’s just about when I fly so I’ll see you, suitcase, at the airport. Note: if you’re feeling generous, please feel free to enter with variations to my name (i.e Shini Parko, Shini Parkookoo, Shini Pee…etc) and I’ll never complain that someone spelt my name wrong in an email again.

Leather shorts – Vintage, Shoes – secondhand Alexander Wang viaVestiaire Collective, Trench - Uniqlo, Bag – Marc Jacobs via Monnier Freres, Stripe Top - Uniqlo, Last pic necklace - DanniJo

Let me just answer that tickling question – did I peel off my striped-top and give it to Carrie while she waited topless on my bed? No. Not in that order anyway. I mean, no. We just happened to bring one top and they both happened to be striped – but picture us walking around Milan looking like girls who ran away from mime-school; amusing is one way to put it.

Anyhow. It always feels wonderful to be back in Milan, the intensity and… ubiquity of sunlight is really something here. Whenever someone tells me how a country’s climate make all the difference in a person’s temperament, I like to wave my cynicism stick at them (shaped like a frantically-purchased, over-priced corner-store umbrella, naturally), but in Milan I always stand corrected. I stood, in fact (but no miming, I swear), in awe of the well-dressed, well-groomed men and women, while happily soaking in the beauty of the sun-kissed city. It wasn’t necessarily hot or anything, but I loved the fact that light was so abundant until one moment around 9pm you look up to realise the sun has just quietly melted away. Whereas in London the sun is really just a matter of abruptly switching it ON or OFF – at  7pm the sun goes OFF; in October, the sun goes OFF. Sometimes it does disco-hour and does ON-OFF-ON-OFF for half the day, like how we all played with the light-switch when we were seven or eight. I tell you, if I find that kid who’s behind this perverted weather I will put it in a box and send it to Korea.

Thank you Ykone and Bottega Veneta for the much needed break away from cold & wet London; thank you Carrie for the shots of me.

More to come in Part II & III with Bottega Veneta Initials concept and a peek into Salone del Mobil!