I've moved on...
...to a different domain. Why, what were you thinking? The truth is, I just woke up one day and decided it's time for a change—a metamorphosis, if you will; or, in layman's terms, if Britney can shave her head, then maybe so can I? Nevertheless, it's been a rather handsome 10 years of talking to you, and thank you for putting up with all my moodswings and terrible dad jokes. Fear not! The hormonal imbalance and jokes are more terrible on CUBICLE, see you there.
White Shirt – ASOS. Jeans – G-Star RAW (tight)

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Jeans – G-Star RAW (wide)

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Tighter jeans, wider quarters.

If you happen follow me on my satellite rant-channels such as Twitter or Instagram you’ve been subject to the live stream moaning of all things related to the joy of moving homes. For this I apologise. If you don’t however, you 1) are making smart choices in life (or at least very refined taste in internet personalities) but also 2) missing out on a whole slew of embarrassing food choices that explain for mysterious stomach bulges that excite and disappoint my mother every other day around dinnertime. (“Kebab or baby?”)

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For the past month I’ve been in nothing but jeans (these two G-Star RAW pairs, my current fav), occupying myself in packing, unpacking, and learning the art of leading a professional life in the most trashcan-like setting in the new house. But we have a marble fireplace so, we got that going for us, which is nice. So far we’ve managed to dig a path to and from the boxes containing beef jerky packets, and have sung a bit of Step in Time while vacuuming around the fireplace.

When it comes to moving uniform though, jeans all the way. Tight or wide, I just like knowing I can wipe my hands on my leg since I have no clue where we packed our towels. While I go look for some (it has now come to a point where a shower is definitely needed), you tell me whether you’re #TeamTight or Wide when it comes to jeans.

In collaboration with G-Star RAW #TightorWide. Editing P&C. Photo assistance by Simon Schmidt.

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Silk scarf – MiH. Leather vest, trench, jeans – GStar RAW. Heels – Gianvito Rossi. Bag – Gucci. Watch – Karl Lagerfeld. Earcuff – CompletedWorks

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Shirt – Iris & Ink (the Outnet). Skirt – YesStyle. Shoes – Vintage Ferragamo. Bag – Kurt Geiger. Belt – Vintage LV. Thank you Kit for helping with the outfit shots!

The first few days of Spring, when you can make any sarcastic, over-exaggerated remark and funnily to some extent it will be correct, and for once you get to be a legitimate smartass. (Woo!) This is literally the most sun we’ve had the whole damn year, it’s so beautiful, I am like literally dying – normally this would be classic case of ‘I don’t think she knows what literally means but just nod and smile’but in April, it’s all technically true! The sun is stronger by day and hanging around much longer; the trees are in full blossom and it’s finally starting to prove the apocalypse wrong. And in my own defense, the last bit is always true, no? Anyhoo. Following up on the previously expressed thoughts regarding my love/hate relationship with London, the sun really is a catalyst. It’s like coming home and finding brownies – it calls for a good snogging-on-the-couch session, which is what the above set of photos is, lucky you.

Tartan Top  & shirt as half-skirt – Courtesy of Motel rocks, Shoes – Ferragamo, Skirt – C/O YesStyle, Bag –  C/O MCM, Clutch – ASOS, Cardigan – Topshop, Jacket – Vintage Burberry, Sunglasses – Jeepers Peepers from Topshop

If you feel like I’m talking too much feel free to shove a virtual sock in my mouth, unfortunately this is the only way to avoid you having to read about LFW on Christmas eve. Goodness knows what kind of excuses I’ll come up with then, the usual my-dog-ate-my-keyboard kind of spiel I guess. And I just realised how obsessed I seem to be with the silver clutch! Well, in truth it’s the only thing big enough to accommodate the pieces of cardboard I slipped between the few tickets just to look like I have a grand purpose during the week. Dash off with a powerwalk/jog muttering sorry I’m running late for the next show… a show of balancing a box of Krispy Kreme x Glamour doughnuts on my nose behind Somerset House before an impatient tourist audience shouts ‘SIMON SAYS, JUST EAT THE DAMN DOUGHNUTS WOMAN’. I’m sure I sent you all tickets for that, no?

Thank you Jen for helping me with the photos!

Edit: the red tartan piece is just a shirt from Motel Rocks buttoned up to the top and tied around the waist flat