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.

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#SPARKYxPARIS
How to be a
Parisian
when you quite like the look of your face under a good, strong, elaborate layer of makeup…

I’ve googled it, I possibly even own an illustrated book or two about it*, and if my google search history is any indication I may even have a phD on it the same way my husband is an expert on all things Dungeons and Dragons. HOW DOES ONE BECOME A PARISIAN? The answer is not so apparent, apparently, even when you’re in the thick of it – slurping down a café allongé with a Coach leather coat caped over your shoulders in the middle of Rue Montorgueil, while the cute waiter periodically pops his head out the door and asks Avez-vous terminee? No, mon cher, it’s not terminal – although given that I am on Page 3 of the search results in pursuit of a self-applicable answer it may as well be. I am done with my coffee though; may I have a glass of rosé?

What does being a Parisian even mean? See, if you have a council tax bill under your name from the London Borough of Anywhere, and accepted the local Turkish joint to be at least one of of your weekly meals, then one can generously consider oneself a Londoner – regardless of duration of residence. There is no gait, no 5-piece wardrobe that would allow you to single out a Londoner from a throng. That odd (borderline creepy) obsession to a pub perhaps can be used for an inkling, but then we invite anyone north of Birmingham to this equation.

*this is what happens when you say yes to one too many goody-bags

This is the Airbnb you need to stay at in Paris

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top: suit PAUL & JOE pleated dress COACH SS16 boots SAM EDELMAN. bottom: coat and bag COACH SS16 trousers NEXT

You can however, pick out the Parisienne out of a crowd. The rule-book (illustrated in colour or not) says she is probably blonde, smoking, and most likely also not wearing a smidgen of makeup, but so far my attempts at following this has only led to being shunned from the high street and offered loose change. And that’s where it hits me: we are dealing with the number of f*cks here. Not the optimal heel height, rituals of lovers vs. boyfriends, nor the percentage of black/navy in the wardrobe. French women simply give less f*cks. Whereas English women, my goodness, KOREAN WOMEN are one (face-contour) beauty product too many f*cks to even contend (why do we care so much?). I’m stereotyping here, of course, but it’s an important lesson. Be Spiderman. Be you. Give less f*cks about what people think and layer that dress over the pant-suit. Do it with confidence, because that’s really what being a Parisian is about, n’est-ce pas?

Jacket – Paul & Joe, Trousers & Clutch – ASOS, Bag – On loan from Mulberry, Shoes – Zara, Shirt – Gmarket

Being a blogger at LFW this season:

1. A girl attending to the ‘blogger queue’ types in Park & Q dot com and tells me in the most matter-of-fact tone that my blog doesn’t exist. After a flurry of failed ‘cube’ jokes the blog finally loads on the laptop and she scrubs her touchpad down the first page, skimming through posts that took 5 hours to put together. Then she nods, says ‘Yeah… I like it‘ and asks for my statistics. I get a Blogger Pass.

2. The security man at the BFC tent thumbs my pass and frowns. ‘Yes, you may run in and get a few,’ he says, ‘but the Vitamin Water bottles aren’t just for anybody, you know’. Later I present my ticket for a show, sponsored by Vitamin Water – he waves me in nonchalantly.

3. My ticket request is denied, the PR doesn’t seem to remember telling me how much they liked my 6-hour-design post of their previous season catwalk. I then receive a mass mail with a standing e-ticket the day before the show.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to experience wonderful design so up-close, and be a part of the ‘magical’ scene, but if this is the kind of attitude I should be expecting every season I’d rather be home sharing an amazing cafe I found the other day or five ways to wear the pair of heels that I otherwise would’ve shredded my foot in doing strangers favours of free publicity.

Thank you Kit for helping with the photos. (Here’s a video by Style it Light TV with the outfit!)

From top: Sophie Gittins shoes, Dresses by Elise Berger, Rings by Jacey Withers, Lilifi bag, Paul & Joe floral sandals, Sophie Gittins footwear, DLUX leather jackets, TBA silk shorts, Bralet by Amber Sakai

Some favourites from h.pr‘s latest: Borne by Elise Berger’s jersey millefoile dresses, pastel-coloured buttersoft leather jackets from DLUX, ‘gator backpack by Lilifi, footwear basics by Sophie Gittins, and last but not least, Maggie the cuddleface French bulldog that stole the show.

Thank you lovely Harriet for having me over, but dangling Maggie in front of a dogless doglover (ME) was so so cruel… …but thank you Leonie for coming along and helping me smuggle her out.

I WISH.

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Jacket Vintage Fur Tshirt I Don’t Like Mondays Pants All Saints Shoes H&M Bag Pollini

That’s the most attention I’ll get from a dog, I’m afraid. Either that or object of desire. Oh I need me a clingy puppy that cleans its own poop and does my laundry.

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I won this little Paul & Joe eyeshadow+nailpolish set from a random-select giveaway at the delightful Luphia Loves… blog! (Thanks Tina!) These are the most pink items I’ve ever owned in my adult life, methinks. You see, I take Vitamin Awww in pills but I guess this could do for a natural healthy dose.