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Coat – Dagmar. Asymmetrical skirt – Dagmar (stocked at Harrod’s). Shoes – Gianvito Rossi (similar lower price). Bag – Louis Vuitton Vivienne. Cross-ring – Elizabeth & James (via Revolve). Rings – Monica Vinader. Leopard keyring – Charlotte Olympia. Pear & cage Bracelet – Razan Alazzouni. Round bracelet – Monica Vinader

I know the title hints on an impending rant about how I am yet again here to renew my vows to this blog and give yet another go on becoming a better blogger/designer/human being… but fear not, I have fully accepted the fact that I am a kebab-munching, inconsistent internet person with an aversion to showering. Everything else will need to happen around this smelly SpongeBob CubePants. The weather in London has just turned a corner into coldsville and I’m simply enjoying the fact that I can drape a big coat over any old thing and call it an outfit. A bit like shoving dirty laundry under the bed, I suppose, monsters and all. Funny thing with this grey Dagmar number (stocked at houseofdagmar.com) is that it comes with the black knitted gilet so – if I might let you in on a secret – I’m technically wearing nothing but a breeze under this coat. Talk about a new leaf, this one’s turned a whole tree into tart territory…

Also, before you ask why it is I’ve attached a toothbrush onto my glasses, the eye contraption you see in the photos are actually the notorious Google Glass, fitted onto a DVF frame (DVF | Made For Glass). Witness as my life & body molds around this gadget and finally I’ll be able to upload my first video on Youtube with a unique skillset of being able to move my eyeballs completely independent of eachother. Attraction.

 

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Blazer – Zara (similar). Culottes – ASOS. Shoes – Gianvito Rossi. Belt – Vintage LV

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Necklace – Amulette de Cartier

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Necklace – Cartier. Top & Trousers – Louis Vuitton Icon. Scarf – Zara. Bag – L.K.Bennett. Shoes – ASOS.

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Necklace – Cartier.

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Above: Hat – Chanel. Sweater - Zadig & Voltaire. Necklace – Cartier. Watch – Larsson & Jennings. Heels – Malone Souliers

There’s an urban myth that flight attendants look for neatly-dressed passengers in Economy to upgrade into Business class in order to balance the weight of the plane when the flight is under-booked. That, of course, is not the reason I wear heels when I travel. I am the passenger that has breadcrumbs all over her chin and sweater before take-off because I genuinely believe that I will starve and die before they bring out the food trolley. I’m also the passenger that is virtually invisible because she’s reaching under the seat for a fallen Skittle.

ANYWAY. I may have briefly touched up on this before, but the more I travel, the more I realise how much I’m addicted to the first 24 hours of a journey: the flurry of packing, pre-flight jitters, and the view out the plane/train window, then finally landing on foreign soil and cataloguing new scents and sounds into memory. From a certain point I started to dress up for it, like I would to any anticipated event, like a good show – figured I’d be sitting for hours in the plane anyway. While I don’t think I’ve yet fully mastered the art, so far these tricks have worked for me: Frothy cashmere, a great pair of heels you can easily slip out from, and single, fuss-free jewellery like the Amulette de Cartier that won’t bring down the entire airport.

In Collaboration with Cartier; photography by KrisAtomic; Location: Booking Office at the Renaissance Hotel.

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Hotel Amour

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‘Astralis’ exhibit at Espace Culturel Louis Vuitton

Børre Sæthre – Untitled (Arches of Solaris)

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Jean-luc Favero – Stag-Transformed

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Chloe Piene – Untitled (CB)

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Dome-Vanity by Charley Case

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Four Angels by Siobhan Hapaska

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Damien Deroubaix – Astralis; Life; Death; South of Heaven; Time; Messaiah

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Myriam Mechita

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Art Oriente Objet – Not Yet

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Rina Banerjee – A Mad Woman

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Instagram @parkncube

Cape – LV. Jeans – MiH Jeans. Heels – Kurt Geiger. Bag – LV Sophia Coppola. Luggage – LV. Watch – Daniel Wellington. Rings – Monica Vinader.

Paris and I got along famously as we reunited under the blessing of Louis Vuitton for a 24-hour-long fling in the middle of February, which was in fact a mere 2 days before the beginning of London Fashion Week and naturally a perfect escape before the hurdle. We arrived late morning to celebrate LV’s latest artist collaboration that once again brings the street onto silk – this time with Andre B and his beloved Mr A character (who I’m sure Parisians will have seen spray-sketched in many crevices around the city), tagged in zingy pink on a massive, soft shawl (more pics of this later).We set up camp in Hotel Amour – owned also by Andre (alongside the Le Baron clubs for those still unfamiliar), counted the number of explicit photos that were hanging in each of our rooms (three in mine, enough to get this old lady excited) and waited for dinner with the man himself.

Speaking of escape, I had a couple hours to burn before dinner and decided it was good a time as any to visit the Espace Culturel atop the LV flagship store on Champs Élysées. I don’t always have good ideas, so this one gets a special mention, because it’s definitely a must-go when in Paris. The current exhibit, ‘Astralis’ (available until May 11), brings together twelve artists that explore concepts behind celestial, elusive, and otherworldly themes prompting visitors to temporarily escape from their minds/bodies. Even numpties like me will understand and appreciate the curation, which – I won’t lie – is occasionally chilling/creepy. But then again I find the lack of nutella in the pantry chilling/creepy, so.

Many thanks to LV for the short but sweet journey.

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A little peek at what’s in my carry-on!

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Sunglasses – Carrera by Jimmy Choo

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Coat – Mango. Jeans – James Jeans. Shoes – Zara. Bag – L.K.Bennett. Rolly bag – Longchamp

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(Rollover to activate numbers ↑)

Rosamundthe gentlewoman that has been accompanying me on many flights of late. Has a soft suede heart, and capability of holding many stories (by way of Kindle) and secrets.
A cashmere scarf that fits in tight corners and folds out into a creamy cloud around your neck, should you wish to hide that double-chin on your snooze. Alternative to the U-shaped flight pillow I never remember to buy.
Carrera by Jimmy Choo – ready for landing, for that rockstar moment when you step out of the airport in a sunny country and you find yourself sporting two more carry-on’s under your eyes.
‘Shut up, I’m fabulous’ rose-gold headphones by Frends. Perfect for NOT hearing the We’re boarding announcements and being that ‘fashionably late’ passenger that gets all the attention in the world. Clever.
Limousine for key items for any trip: the Louis Vuitton Mon Monogram travel wallet - does not come with a mini-fridge with champagne, but does have compartments for different currencies. As if I’m going on more than one destination at a time, pffsh.
Airport pouch by the geniuses (geniusi?) at Muji - mine’s a small version but they come in larger sizes (within airport regulation) for shorter trips where you don’t wish to check-in one lone shampoo bottle.
Fences and Windows by Naomi Klein, amazing read – but sometimes used as alternative to sleeping pill on longer flights. Must’ve read the same sentence in that on chapter about five times now.
The Samsung Galaxy Note 2 S Pen only comes out above 10,000 ft – highly practical when re-thinking your life and writing down life goals that you’ll never read again. Also partner in crime for item .
Snacks – Because somebody is always too impatient for the food trolley to roll by. Plus, I’ve never seen a flight offer Coconut Water (more potassium than four bananas – try taking four bananas on board), and until that day, I will insist on bringing one aboard.
Trusty Casio on my wrist. I don’t want our plane to crash because I turned on my mobile to check the time, thank you. BECAUSE THAT’S A THING APPARENTLY.
Mulberry envelope pouch I got for £25 in Bicester Village, used as foreign currency wallet, or what is now a mixture of Yens, Euros, Dollars, Pounds and Wons, and a game of is this your country’s money at checkout.

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Louis Vuitton Spring Summer 2014

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Louis Vuitton Spring Summer 14 collection, Paris; See the entire collection here.

Always personally a step late on fashion news, from start to finish this show was the usual Marc, a succession of delight: glimpses of pink coming through the queue into the show, the French maids that brushed the staircases Finalewith ostrich-feather dusters, and the near-complete darkness behind the doors. Almost too dark – guests were thumbing their phones, not to join the tweeting, but in attempts to illuminate the corridor to the showspace. Then came the hotel porters with mini torches, briefly lighting up the invitations and informing left or right in French. To the left, there was a black fountain that spewed water, also black in the light; to the right, a black carousel, flanked by two wrought-iron elevators each guarded by two doormen. A trainstation clock shone through the black horses of the carousel, its light gently riding down a pair of double escalators under. Upstairs, the corridor was studded with dark hotel doors. It was all too strange and familiar, and yet in my blissful ignorance, was a delight to me.

The clock counted down 60 seconds at exactly 10:00am, and unseated guests scrambled to find a corner in the dark. The models walked out balancing a Stephen-Jones designed ostrich headpiece, donning a collection that swung from glittery showgirl, to punk, to sports (of the rugby sort). The occasional denim, and the barely-there thongs. The choreography took the models through each of the landmarks, striding through the Mongolian lamb rugs, a ride on the carousel, then up the escalators, down the corridor, and down the elevator. At on point it felt like a funeral, a thought I’d quickly brushed aside before training my long lens back on a dress. At the end, Marc Jacobs , and across the floor I saw Anna Wintour starting a wave of standing ovation across the first and second row. The news reached me only as the lights came back on and the seats were emptying, during a frustrated attempt to upload a tweet, and accidentally reading others. Then everything just clicked. I feel a little foolish to have experienced it all in complete oblivion, but on hindsight, I think it made it all the more special – Marc’s last show, a grand compilation of the past seasons, a final mix-tape of sorts and something to remember for years to come.