Well, what do you know. It’s the sun. And it’s about damn time it paid a visit to this half of the hemisphere. Hey, I know we don’t have valet, or salted almonds while you wait, but book yourself an Airbnb, would ya? Stick around a while, because I’d very much like to stop donating bits of my shoe-sole leather to various wet patches around London and coming home* – drenched – to nine-freaking-umbrellas in the hallway like there’s some Mary Poppins Anonymous meeting going down in the second bedroom. Does the spoonful of sugar come with whiskey, pray tell?
The fact of the matter is, a true Londoner will refuse to carry an umbrella (or trusts the weather man with bad teeth), yet we are all big babies when it comes to a turn of weather. Case in point: exhibit A. Stick a pacifier in my mouth, make sure to burp me regularly, and go ahead and open up that mummy blog. Exploit this Londoner, because at the first chance of sun I will wear out the breeziest skirt I own, and then wail when it soaks to the point the pattern on my panties is public information. Speaking of breezy skirts, this Maje beauty called Joline (and there goes that song, ‘Jolene’, stuck in my head for the next 12 hours) is my current choice, which coincidentally only 200 pieces are available worldwide so don’t even spend a minute hesitating if you saw your name written along the sequins. As expected, the weather did do the usual topsy-turvy on the day of this shoot but it didn’t stop me from dancing in one of the busiest intersections around Bank and getting yelled/howled at by finance boys. So, is this how one obtains an investor?
*Weather miscalculation is apparently another hobby I can take quite seriously. Note to self: add ‘Creative Director of Weather’ into Instagram profile.
left: top TOPSHOP . skirt MAJE JOLINE. coat MANGO