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Broadway Market, E8

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Sweater – Gap. Grey skinny jeans- Gap. Heels – Kurt Geiger. Watch – Guess. Doorknocker ring – & Other Stories. Bag – Couronne.

Forget bed, this is what you’re doing tomorrow. Throw on a nice cosy turtleneck, pick up a flat white at Climpson & Sons (No. 67) at the bottom of Broadway Market, and work your way through the crowd. 9am in the morning is probably the best time to go for some peace and quiet, but if you like the buzz and would like to eventually end up at The Cat & Mutton pub (No. 76) for a pint later in the afternoon, then a lazy Saturday start is fine. Sourdough bread is a must, so pick one up for the week; the fruit can be a little overpriced, but they look like something out of Gwyneth Paltrow cookbook so whatever floats your boat. Drop by Hansen & Lynderson stall for a the best smoked salmon (Norwegian-caught, locally hung) on bread with sourcream and dill snack – £3 a pop – just enough to whet your appetite. My lunch is pork steamed buns from Yum Bun (Broadway school yard market), or a pot of beef pho from Cà Phê, depending on weather – the latter has a little seating area if you’ve miscalculated your outfit like I always do and regretting those heels. Post-lunch, before you make a bee-line to the salted caramel cookies (yes, those), do a little detour to Strut (2b Ada st) for the best designer vintage in the East, for it may put you on a wee diet before the day’s end. Forget Brick Lane, Strust is where the fashion-savvy East Londoners’ Chanels, McQueens and Margielas come to rest and find new owners (Sunday and Mondays are their buying days). I always have dessert anyway, a gluten-free brownie from the Happy Kitchen stall, or a red velvet from Violet Cakes. One for now, one to have later at home.

A couple more recommendations: L’Eau à la Bouche for people-watching, over a pear flan, best around 3pm. Lucky Chip (31-35 Coate St) for the best burgers in town, Rebel Rebel (5 Broadway market), for great range of flowers if you know you can’t make it to the flower market on Sunday. Off Broadway (No. 63-65) when the sun goes down and home still can wait – a New-York style bar with great cocktails and Tex-Mex nibbles. Oh and don’t forget to visit the fish tank in the bathroom. Last but not least, Noble Fine Liquor (No. 27) for natural wine and craft beer – go back for wine tasting every Wednesday eve.

All makings of a good weekend!

Outfit: Part three of styling series with Gap‘s Styld.by platform. Check part one and part two here!

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Sweater – Chanel AW13. Dress – Next. Booties – Next. Bag – Couronne. Rose-gold star necklace – MyFlashTrash. Watch – Sekonda. Sunglasses – c/o Carrera by Jimmy Choo. Thank you Carrie for helping with the outfit shots.

Guess who feels all grown up buying baguettes at the local boulangerie and eating them straight out the paper bag in her own Parisian flat? Me. Sometimes I alternate a chomp with a lick off a spoonful of French Nutella on one hand and feel like I’ve cooked a meal. Renting an apartment in Paris for one week sounded harmless at first – it’s a fraction of the costs of a hotel room, has a kitchen, and get this: my own room service rules. The Kit Kat in the fridge would be plentiful and would not cost €3,000 + my first-born on check-out. But three days in, I feel like I was getting just too comfortable; the internet was unbelievably fast for some reason and Carrefour supermarket would only sell dessert pots by sets of 6, so I was dutifully employing myself to chain-eat chocolate pudding while streaming Korea’s Next Top Model episodes, back-to-back. I’d make it to a PFW show at 10am in the morning, then come home and do this until it was time to go to the next 10am show. THIS particular set of photos were shot on the last day at the flat before a dinner with a few of my gal friends. Like coming out from a cave, I emerged in this feminine, first-date outfit. An attempt to join society again, I suppose. Even wore my new Carrera by Jimmy Choo sunglasses to protect my out-TV’d eyes, although I’d like to say it was a style choice because, well, aren’t they pretty cool, yo? Good thing I was packing and going home because otherwise I’d really have eaten €3,000 worth in pudding and perhaps even had my first born in there. How Parisienne-chic.

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The Gilbert Scott, St Pancras Renaissance Hotel

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Elderflower blended with raspberry, tarragon and lemon

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To start, brown and Forrest smoked salmon on a platter

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Chicken schnitzel

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Lake District sirloin steak with brandy mushroom sauce

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Chocolate mousse, marshmallow, walnut ice cream

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Wearing: Blouse – Zara. Wide-leg trousers – ASOS (similar ASOS). Heels – Lucy Choi. Bag – Couronne. Glasses – YesStyle.

If I may interrupt the fashion week service – not that there has been much of a ‘service’ going on (this blog is becoming a bit like MTV… no Music, just other random stuff) – I’d like to show you where I had a wee lunch the other week.

I must admit, there are still some ‘public’ places that I’m frightened to enter in London, after nearly seven years of snooping around town. Not in a lone-light-basement type of frightened, but a sort of intimidation you feel in a completely ‘non-you’ surrounding – a Cartier boutique, for instance, or anywhere I ask for a pedicure, really. The St. Pancras Renaissance hotel was one of those few, until I had lunch at the Gilbert Scott with Kit the other week, and realized I will have no use for the couture gown I stuffed in my purse. It does look like a palace, doesn’t it? And get this, you don’t need to step out of a Porsche (so I had to return that the next day…) I’ve obviously played this through in my head a few too many times – soundtrack from a Bond movie, Bond girl that needs a diet…etc. In actual fact, the hotel is one of the Gothic beauties designed by architect Sir George Gilbert Scott in 1866 who also designed the Albert Memorial and the Victoria & Albert museum. I sure don’t have problems entering the V&A, heck, I’m regularly kicked out for hopping around taking photos. Despite the size and grandeur, the interior is welcoming, what with all the elaborate lines of Victorian decor and the gold leafing, all casting a warm glow in the corridors. The Gilbert Scott restaurant does a surprisingly down-to-earth, hearty fine-dining, championed by Marcus Wareing, and although the price bracket still puts it into a special occasion, the whole package is there. Ask for a custom mocktail that would wake your appetite, and you must end with the chocolate mousse, toasted marshmallows and walnut ice cream dessert. Forget the diet, just do a couple of zig-ah-zig-ah‘s* before you leave.

*Spice Girls’ Wannabe music video was filmed in the hotel in the year 1996.

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Stumbling through NYC | New York Fashion Week SS14

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Wearing: Sweater – Zara. Jeans – James Jeans. Heels – Lucy Choi. Bag – Couronne. Tartan shirt – Motel Rocks. Thank you Cup of Couple for helping with the shots of moi!

Well, it’s official. My champion all-nighter days are over. Now come the era of hot, crumbling mess under restaurant tables, desperate to catch a snooze between courses that are technically being served at 3am in the morning. It didn’t help that I never bothered to change my watch to NY time, so throughout the evenings every glance at the wrist was met with a mini heart-attack. Largely because normally by 11pm the hubby would be out by the door with a Sharpie and a pair of suede shoes, threatening with a game a tic-tac-toe on a pair of Chloés, but also because it really felt like all the lights were off in my body except the stomach into which I was shovelling dessert. (PARTY UP IN HURR) It was all very confusing. I returned to the hotel after each consecutive late night, reached for the laptop slurring I nee to update de bluuuuuuuug, then wrote some incoherent ramble before planting my face square onto a corner of the keyboard, typing a 25-page blogpost consisting of just Q’s, ~’s, @’s and W’s. I guess it stopped when I eventually rolled myself into bed, which let me tell you, felt like diving into milk. I guess jet lag is the closest thing to a drug I’ll ever experience. I do apologize for the radio silence, and the avalanche of posts on stand-by, soon to clog up your Bloglovin’ feed. For now, here’s a couple of shots from NYC/NYFW to get started.

Hope you’re having a wonderful week and enjoying the fashion month so far. 

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Random cupcakes photo because I am princess cake, haven’t you heard.

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Sweater – ASOS. Frilly Skirt – Zara (similar here). Heels – Valentino (lower heel version). Bag – c/o Couronne. Headphones – Frends (and here).

It’s that time of year again when you’re supposedly very, very busy due to ‘fashion week preparation, and when suddenly everyone is very simpatico about any shortcomings. Didn’t reply to your urgent email for a week? It’s OK, you must be super busy. Instagramming useless stuff like the crack on your wall? It’s OK, aren’t you a busy girl? Randomly bursting into tears after finishing your last ice cream? There, there, it’ll be over soon. Although, I do feel as though lately I’m fuelled by this false sense of hurry, running around sniffing like there’s a fire (or hidden garlic & herbs bagel) somewhere and eventually not getting anything done 100%…  i.e getting frustrated that the kebab shop man isn’t cooking that damn chicken fast enough so I can go home and half-answer an e-mail while half-glueing gel-soles into all my heels. BECAUSE OMG FASHION WEEK. And I’ve started to scream this like how you’d yell ‘SPRING BREAK!!’ while flashing random strangers. Hey new guy followers. Anyway. I’m really not busy, not more than I am during the rest of the year. Yeah, I’ve got a few shows I’m dying to cover (Mary Katrantzou, are you listening, pwease?), but I just need to charge my batteries and top-up my Oyster card for that. Tell you what, I AM busy re-watching Arrested Development and drinking Tabasco by way of very bloody Virgin Mary’s from bed. LIKE OMG I’M BUSY TALK TO MY SECRETARY OK.