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Quilted jacket – Barbour. Shearling vest – Muubaa. Bag – Couronne.

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Coat – Mango. White Jeans – AG Jeans. Shoes – Isabel Marant. Scarf – Zara.

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Coat – Mango. Boots – Margiela for H&M. Bag – Mansur Gavriel. Scarf – Acne (Similar).

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Coat – Mango (blazer version). Boots – Margiela for H&M. Bag – Mansur Gavriel. Scarf – Acne (Similar).

Two weeks in Seoul boiled down to a mere 30 photos – yeah, either I’ve had my chronic indecisiveness miraculously cured, or someone broke into the flat during the night and magically edited down the lot. If it’s the latter I also wish they touched me before sneaking out. All kidding aside, once I’d dealt with the two-freaking-thousand files that choked up the ‘SEOUL 2014’ folder, I found myself at a bind, because even with a more manageable bunch my time in Seoul was just too big, dynamic, entertaining, nostalgic, and exotic to ‘boil down’ into one sweeping summary.

Over the two weeks, I reconnected with friends and relatives I hadn’t seen in about seven years, and visited my grandmother who fed me the same type of fried fish she used to hide inside my spoonful of rice when I was little; then my Caucasian husband arrived midway through, and together the city was suddenly an exotic new ground with every corner fascinating. All in all I found: the people supremely enjoyable, the fashion essential, and the food unbearably sexy. Tradition and modernity co-exist in great harmony, which is something I particularly adored this time round – especially how the young people embrace and pride in the heritage…

I do realize I’m technically tooting my own people’s horn here and may not be the best person to lend impartial image of the city but then again you’re not here for impartial reviews, are you?! Because in the next post I’m going to rave about honey pancakes and outline why it’s the bestest thing in the world  and you’re not allowed to ask what about donuts and macarons. 

A huge thanks to Samsonite (x Fashiolista) for the great adventure – do check out how I packed for Seoul, the first 24 hours, and more photos from the trip in the visual diary on Fashiolista.

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.

One piece, Three looks: Knee-length chino trousers

Wallet, Chloe

Look 1 (from left to right):  Mint Sweater, H&M. Patterned blouse, Zara. Shorts, Uniqlo. Sandals, Camilla Skovgaard, Straw Bag, Chloe
Look 2: Jacket, Barbour.  Checkered blouse, Motel Rocks.Shorts, Uniqlo. Bag, Marc Jacobs (via Monnier Freres). Shoes, Kate Kanzier. Headphones, Urbanears. Belt, JHYoo. Cat-eye Sunnies, Beyond Retro
Look 3: Bag, Bottega Veneta Initials. Shoes, Coii.kr. Sleeveless blazer, ASOS Africa. Checkered Top, stolen from mummy. Shorts, Uniqlo.

You know how summers go. Vacations, festivals, family reunions, hairplugs, cider by the river, breast reduction surgery, sample sales, that one trip to the zoo where you swear off children forever… I know you know what I mean, you’re BUSY, so, what blog? Well. None of those happened to me in the past postless week so sadly no point getting excited (do we count slamming chest-on into a shelf ‘reduction surgery’? YES/NO). In fact I was home the entire week working 9-to-5 in my suit (suit for super-cool stuff like sleeping) migrating from desk to bed and occasionally the postbox for Dominos Pizza flyers. ‘Tomorrow!’ was the battle-cry, and this blog was the victim in one. Hey, I’m back now, with chino shorts (what an odd thing to comeback in) - I bet you’ve never seen anything like this in a glossy magazine before! In fact I’d fold them neatly and place them in a box with the power drill and a jug of motor oil, marked ‘Utility Stuff’. It was fun though, the challenge of trying to style one, and since I was on a roll of NOT blogging this is a pretty good brain teaser to help reverse directions and roll the other way towards a land of bountiful motivation and cakes, lots of cakes…

Many thanks to Kitty Kat for helping with the photos

Jacket – Barbour, Bag – Coach, Boots – Topshop

Just a few things that’s become my everyday grab before wheeling the Chinawoman out to work. In fact, they’ve become this ‘shell’ I slip out from when I get home in the evening, then it’s go get a cup of tea and sit in front of the washing machine till the episode is over and the credits go up… and in the morning I just slap some ‘makeup’ on and slither back in. Pretty exciting crustacean I make I must say.

Khaki quilted Barbour jacket - Perfect light windbreaker; Coach suede bag (massive thanks to tcs & Coach) – Otherwise known as Mary Poppins bag, i.e fits the Canon camera so it must be magical (must try lamp…); and Topshop Ambush chelsea boots – best heel height for cycling! I’ve actually considered saving up for the Acne Pistols but I think the conclusion was that I prefer 103 kebabs for the money…

Shirt-dress – Courtesy of Flik Hall, Pants – Zara DIY cut-off jeans, Shoes – Courtesy of Heavy Machine, Bag - ASOS, Jacket – Barbour

I think I may have discovered a new fruit, ladies and gentleman. Events from the past few days have helped uncover the existence of a magical species, in the same family as the banana, the ba-radioactive-neon-green-peel-lining-nana. I have discovered that, despite my entire life in a Western setting with aspirations not unlike an American teenager’s (running a Babysitter’s club, going to prom, getting punched by a mean girl), there is powerful Asian tiger-mum blood coursing through my veins, melting vital organs. If I had it my way, the London Riots would be dealt with kimchi-smeared fingers and a putter club from daddy’s golf-shrine. Yes, some say the riots were the cries of the neglected underclass, the abandoned youth deprived of role models, but before questioning the government on bad parenting, punishment should be ruthless. I personally don’t believe in beating as part of child raising, but a stick has always been a part of my childhood, and I can’t deny that there was always a lesson to be learnt behind every strike. So I don’t steal, well, except from looters, I’ll strip the hoodies off your back and DIY the crap out of it. Hide yo kids, hide yo wives.

There’s no doubt those involved in such shameful, disgusting acts have deserved the ‘Scum’ title, and it’s clear that the rule-abiding citizens have proved our worth by not retaliating but instead cleaning after the idiots, but please let’s do our best to train them not to soil the carpet in the first place. Use a water gun, or a rolled-up newspaper, give them good role models, invest in their future…

Thank you Alice (of Alicepoint) for helping with the shots!