Monday, 28 September 2015


A long-winded trail of searching through pinterest led to a summer short cut, an editorial photographed by Gilles Bensimon that featured on the fashion spot. The model Georgianna Robertson posed in a stripped down maxi that served as enough throwbacks to expose my feelings on being cut off and withdrawn from inspiration since my big chop. As I’m mourning the loss of my locks, I realise my new form shapes an unstudied charm to my resting bitchface and alike my edges they’re well laid to bare.  Cutting my hair comes at a price of risking the security I’ve binded in wearing a pixie cut that’s grown into an extension of my personality. An investment well spent during my youth into my mid twenties that I’ve parted side ways with since I no longer have the desire to hold onto my mane.

Short cuts have an unprecedented prettiness that makes them the perfect choice for a wider population, yet societies narrow -minded view on beauty is still shallow.  In an attempt to taper this, I recently posted this picture on Instagram. By staging this setup for an audience to get used to with a few likes and owning my new hashtag cutlife, I realised my issues were deep and I focused on becoming a poster for my own interest.

I’m not new to this and it would be a danger for those who are, as they’re stepping into an unknown territory that I lavishly treat as my playground. My short hair has shown my long-locked neighbours a few tips they could brush up on. Its trendy, well at least when I was 18 and some would say I did it to make a ‘statement’. However at 25 its different this time because I don’t have anything to say.This won’t last long, I’m sure. When my hair grows back I’ll be facing a new war and although the growth is a slow process that time will not press pause on, I know it’s a battle I’ve already won. Taming my do is an act that speaks volume. Since my turn up days are well and truly over, shaving off a couple inches of hair has lobbed a huge weight off my shoulders, that even at 1/2 an inch crops worth leaves me feeling whole again.

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Saturday, 18 July 2015

Easily Persuaded

In search of something old with a 70s hybrid of swag and stability, I recently purchased this suede camel trench coat I sourced on Ebay. The coat is a rich and decadent item that holds a smooth touch and not a dent in my pocket. My love affair with camel is a hump I have yet to get over. The coat laments a sense of newness in a mash up of textures and familiar shape although it encouraged repetition; I invited a variety of something that was the same but felt different. Engaged in my bridal warpath hunt for the one, cementing my love and declaring my vows to finally finding it landed me in hot mess. I had little foresight to how big of a collection my coats were becoming. Thus, tying an emotional knot with the realisation I’ve groomed a commitment to the idea of wearing the coat rather than actually do so. I don’t do commitment well and ironically I wear things for a lengthy period of time. 
My relationship with vintage is a novelty that feels inclusive and that feeling’s worn off and I’m reduced to a runaway streak, so I sold the coat. I liked it because of the easy fit and its second skin nature, however for something that’s birthed right out of the 70s, its peaked too soon and hanging onto it will leave me in a litter of stuff I’m already cutting ties with. Besides the summer doesn’t last long here in the UK and I’d make a plush bride with a full backing of Chloe AW15 well at the forefront of my wardrobe inspiration this coming winter. Velvet is not too far off from becoming my new love, a few strokes of the coat I’ve been sleeping on keeps me well engaged with a marriage of textures, that is well worth saying "I do".  

Wearing: Vintage Suede Coat, Brandy & Melville Ribbed crop (seen underneath), Vintage Levi 501's, Vintage Belt and Stuart Weitzman Pumps
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Sunday, 7 June 2015

In full bloom

Levi 501 CT Jeans

I came across the ye old saying via the ‘gram’ (instagram, if you haven’t caught on yet) and it said, “we don’t stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stopped playing.” I’ve adopted some traits that possibly emulate a full transition into adulthood such as rather than thinking about playing in the garden, I actively source products and ideas to do some gardening. In all honesty I’ve been beating around the bush with the task of trimming the hedges, as my nether regions are only ones I’m interested in tendering to. An over abundance of different cuts and shapes combined with the large array of texture and colours is the driving force of the outfit in this post. Although I’ve put it to bed for the rest of summer this monster of a coat takes balls to wear. A little undone and dishevelled, I look crazy but the repetition of silhouette with a silk cut blouse and straight-legged denim keeps me sane and also steers me in a direction of presenting an uncompromising front. The coat has a subtle messiness that possesses a little fray embedded in a deliberate bouquet of colours that makes it all the more interesting. It suggests I’m both chaotic and amateurish, I was and probably still am confused about what I’m wearing in this post, but it worked well.  So maybe I’m not done growing yet and there’s still time to play. 
Summer Floral Fur, Levi 501 CT
Levi 501 CT
summer full bloom, notting hill london, farm cottage

Wearing: Vintage Fur Coat, Vintage Silk Blouse, Levi 501 Jeans, Dr Marten vs Bolongaro Trevor pixie boots

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Sunday, 31 May 2015

Flared Weather Friends

Change is inevitable and it’s not something within my control. At best, I’m a glass half full type and I learn to adapt, so when it came for the time to clear out my wardrobe, I did not hesitate. Sifting through a field of dump em’s, fix em’s and denim’s with a few sweeping motions of fabric dusting the floors better than my hoover Henry could, I finally formed a friendship with an unlikely pair I once deemed an enemy of progression, the flared jeans. My J brands’ Valentina Flare is rife with nostalgia and they remind me of a pair my mum bought me way before my time or anyone else’s for that matter. 
Topshop’s boyfriend and skinnies and anything Alexa Chung related was a lane geared for an it- girls direction. Tammy girl at Ealing Broadway was a swerve I could only get on as I had neither of the three and I couldn’t afford to play catch-up with my peers. The daddy long-legs trope carried me through my teen years until I was in a position to abandon them altogether, swearing off the idea to ever web my body through them again. Now that I’ve embraced getting older, I currently dress in a way that evokes a sense of the 1970s for a child of the 1990s, as they lean on the less funky and more functional side of proportions. 
I favor a wide ankle opening that leaves room to close the door on anything that is too form fitting and on trend. The 'cousin it' of the denim camaraderie finally gets picked out of the bunch. They’re a staple piece, a great pick and considerably the least attractive of the bunch. Nevertheless they have shaped and molded me into accepting that this month is one filled with many transitions that also include my wardrobe and I’m in it for the long haul. My dressed down days are on the up and considering the weathers temperament, I can only hope it stays that way.

Wearing: Vintage Jacket, Topshop ribbed crop top & belt, JBrand Valentina Jeans, Stuart Weitzman Pumps 
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