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‘Come at me, bro’

Sunglasses - Celine Audrey via Sunglasses Shop

Comfortably getting into more punching-fights over the last ham baguette sandwich at Pret because now I have these Celine sunglasses to cover up possible black eye. Round, oversized beauties, that provide instant Audrey-like lady-factor, especially to those who’ve chosen meat sandwich over manners. (Celine Audrey via Sunglasses Shop)

 

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Tile of my loins

Clockwise: Bag - Zac Posen Americana. Watch – Casio. Friendship bracelets – DIY & Lucy Folk. Necklace – Noemi Klein. Sunglasses - Celine Audrey. Bracelet - MyFlashTrash. Nail Polish – Chanel. Skirt – Claudie Pierlot. Lace shirt – MotelRocks. Heels – Alexander Wang. Mini perfume – Marc Jacobs Daisy

Picked up this beautiful, embroidered skirt at the Claudie Pierlot pre-sale over the weekend, the pattern is what I hope my kitchen tiles would look like when we buy a house. I’d happily be a full-time sandwich-maker and better wife if that’s ever case. Speaking of Claudie Pierlot – is it weird that I’ve only recently discovered that they actually have stores in the UK? Here I thought it was to be one of those French treasures (Ladurée being one) limited only to those living in France… The store on South Molton st is packed with goodies, and a little bird tells me the UK sales start on the 12th!

 

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Arden, the illegitimate

Heels – Kurt Geiger

I’m always suspicious of my toys coming to life the minute I leave the room, but it looks like my chairs do it too. My two neon chairs had a child and they called her Arden - those two must have some fiercerelationship because that kid is feisty.

 

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Optical Prime

Preferred eye-makeup for those days when I transform from WTF to OK and remember to draw some eyebrows: Skinny liquid eyeliner (feels like graffiti on your eyelids with a felt-tip pen) and Brow Gel by Eyeko, and Golden Aura eye palette by Topshop.

 

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Hey Missy, you so fine..

Mini Missy - Neri Karra

…you so fine you blow my mind, hey Missy! I met the ever delightful Neri for coffee and cakes at the Rose Bakery at the top of Dover Street Market the other week, and after we’d dusted down carrot cake from our chins she slid a small box over that held this little baby inside. I made this noise similar to a car brake and now I can’t go back to that cafe.

 

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If I were a boy

Skull necklace – Maria Nilsdotter. Bar necklace – Kirsten Goss Urban Edge. Watch – Casio Sheen. Leather laptop case – Scotch & Soda.

If I were a boy, I’d put Jennifer Lawrence as my phone wallpaper and not get weird stares from strangers. My affinity for silver accessories/jewellery is growing with each time I steal something out of my husband’s wardrobe. You got to agree, an oversized shirt and nothing on your wrist but a solid silver watch sounds pretty liberating when you’re on your period and everything is simply arduous.

 

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Souk style

Flats – Reiss

Gazing at Kit’s Morocco visual diary and realizing this is as close to a non-IKEA carpet I will ever walk on this year.

 

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Iconia A1

Pouch – Kurt Geiger. Tablet – Acer Iconia A1

At just over 8 inches long, this little tablet by Acer seems to find its way into any otherwise inadequately sized handbag I own these days. I’m building quite a large collection of magazines – dust-free, naturally – via Play Magazines, and have downloaded my entire summer reading list into this 1cm-thick thing. Jamie Oliver teaches me how to cook meals under 20 minutes while I burn some water, and my bank app constantly reminds me how much money I don’t have. The device processor is quad-core, which apparently means it’s responsive and runs smoothly, but I love it most for its compact size and the fact that it is a digital Mary Poppins’ bag, in essence.

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The 2013 London Tweed Run

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Photo by Yu Fujiwara of Tokyobike

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Time for tea!

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Tweed blazer - Vintage Gerry Weber, Skirt – ASOS. Floral shirt – Zara. Shoes – Topshop. Bag – Warehouse. Bike – Tokyobike. Thank you Kit for the shots of moi!

One does not simply partake in the Tweed Run among 499 others and not come home with 49,999 photos of tweeded butts, as Boromir might say.

We spilled out into the streets, ushered by the marshals – in no particular order but close enough to each other to hold hands. Mobile boomboxes in bike baskets sang the 50′s, conversations budded up here and there while turning corners. Girls rode in heels, hands-free for some boys, and we bloggers cycled with our elbows while trying to capture every moment… At times it felt like learning to cycle all over again – half scooting, half balancing with momentum – except here when you topple over sideways you take about twenty people down with you. Every single head turned on the streets, traffic stopped, and windows opened in cheer – how exhilarating! So this is what it feels like to be a politician, or blonde. We rode through Marylebone, Oxford Circus, Saville Row, Piccadilly, Whitehall, Westminster… all the postcards of London, then ended up in Lincoln’s Inn Fields just behind Holborn for afternoon tea; then up to King’s Cross to finish the day at a pub, at which point England did what England does best and rained on a parade. Only literally, though.

Many thanks to Tokyobike once again for this wonderful experience! Check out part 1 for more tweed, less buttz.

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Dishoom London: an homage to the now-fading Irani cafés in Bombay

Lamb Samosas

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Dishoom Chicken Tikka and Garlic Naans

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Vada Pau

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Mango Kulfi on a stick and Pineapple and black pepper crumble

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Trenchcoat – H&M Trend. Bag – Kurt Geiger ‘Deuce’. Grey jeans – Urban Outfitters. Shoes – Topshop. Plaid Shirt – Uniqlo Mens. Grey cardigan – Barbour. Watch – Sekonda.

We fit right in, Joanna and I, at Dishoom, inspired by Irani cafes that existed in abundance in Bombay at the turn of the 20th Century, those which welcomed practically everyone regardless of social class or occupation. So we fit right in, because alongside memories of wealthy Bombay businessmen dining next to the struggling rickshaw-puller and the whore, there was us, two girls that knew no more than the ABC’s of Indian cuisine, asking the waiter what samosas look like. To those seasoned Londoners who add to the national statistic of curry being one of Britain’s most popular foods, our choices may seem unusual, but apparently Dishoom prides in being not, an Indian restaurant, but a Bombay Cafe. Everything is designed to share and each person is recommended to order 2 – 3 dishes. The food come in concise portions, each rich in flavour and character, or in other words, DI-SHOOM.* Interiors designed by Russel Sage (who’s also done Zetter Townhouse, The Hospital club…), I’m transported straight into an exotic world that is also oddly nostalgic despite the fact that I’m the dunce that doesn’t know what samosas look like. Don’t let the hype/commercial reputation (their other branch is in Covent Garden theatre district) deter you, especially the Shoreditch branch with the beautiful courtyard already littered with sofas and benches, I’ll be out there with a Bollybellini come July. For now, try the bottomless spiced chai, Behl and the Pineapple and black pepper crumble as dessert.

*Bollywood version of Ka-Pow!

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Polo-neck – Uniqlo heattech. Peg trousers – ASOS White. Bag - 3.1 Phillip Lim Pashli satchel. Belt - Marni via the Outnet. Coat – Mango. Shoes – Topshop. Snood – DIY; Thank you Kit for helping with the pics!

Nearly seven years and I still feel like I’m not part of this relationship. This ongoing, abusive at times, although occasionally enthralling relationship with London. I guess the one good thing about it is that it’s an open one so I can make out with Paris, NY, Warsaw without the fear entering into a nasty divorce where I lose half my assets (nectar points at Sainsbury’s mostly), although perhaps there lies the problem…? I’ve been punched around by inefficient performance in banking, transport and OH MY GOODNESS the weather, but sometimes it reveals such hidden beauty I fall right back head-over-heels in love. Like when it does this, or the Notting Hill area par example, which I’d completely forgotten about living in the other side of town. It’s like swapping sleeping sides and suddenly realizing he/she’s pretty sexy from this side of the bed. Of course, the weather thing still makes London essentially an asshole because believe it or not, these photos were taken back in November 2012 when Winter was just arriving and guess what, I just stuck my hand out the window and it’s exactly the same temperature. IT’S NEARLY APRIL, AND STOP LEAVING YOUR SOCKS AROUND THE HOUSE WILL YOU.

Although clearly I’m the man in the relationship judging by how I dress.

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Pleased to meet you, NYC

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Distributing fingerprints on every surface at the Marc Jacobs SoHo boutique

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Marc Jacobs Daisy

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Marc by Marc Jacobs FW13

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Wearing: Shearling leather jacket – Muubaa Aurora. Contrast-sleeve jumper – Topshop. Quilted orange skirt – Topshop Boutique . Geometric print skirt – YesStyle. Bag –Kurt Geiger Shoes –Givenchy.

This post was drafted the day after I’d returned from a trip I still suspect was only a dream, one of those sickly-sweet ones you get when your bed linen are freshly washed and you’ve just jumped in from a hot bath. The photos were edited ten thousand feet above the pond, then strung together in a sequence once home, I was drunk with fatigue, but my head was still in the clouds with fresh giddines. I decided I’d leave it at that to pick up fresh the next day, which was the day I read the infamous piece by Suzy Menkes on the circus around fashion weeks and the general integrity of bloggers. Now, to be clear, this is not a rebuttal, or even a commentary. I’m not in the bleachers when it comes to  the street circus game – I’m neither a ‘peacock’ (not that I choose not to, but learnt early on that I do not have the tailfeather(x) -factor), or a ‘black crow’ fashion industry member shuffling through to do their job at fashion week. But it did make me halt because that blogger in paragraph twelve who accepts ‘trophy gifts and paid-for trips’, does refer to me too – in fact, isn’t this sort of post exactly one of the latter? A few days later Leandra wrote her two cents, and then Susie, both gracefully agreeing and disagreeing with Menkes’ points, but also undeniably displaying an attitude of self-reflection which I also found myself to adopt on reading the article. The only difference was, I couldn’t find a suitable response (preferably backed by stellar writing talent) or even the balls to ignore it completely, especially having this post lined up. So every evening since returning I’ve been arguing with myself whether to man-up and post, or seek refuge in the Winchester with a pint and wait for it all to blow over… and this went for two weeks. Who was I kidding, this was not going to ‘blow over’. Echoing what Leandra wrote earlier, we are indeed entering an era where bloggers will not be able to show preference without having our motives questioned. So here I am, withdrawing myself from behind the oh no, will they judge me too wall, with a small promise to you that I will be as honest as I possibly can when it comes to the content of this blog, and that quality control will come before any amount of kebab-money.

With that said, I’d like to thank the Coty and Marc Jacobs teams for the opportunity for an amazing first-time experience in New York, and a privilege to learn more about Marc Jacobs fragrances through #MJDaisyChain. Stay tuned for more!