Tuesday, 8 November 2011



I've started meditating. It's my new 'new thing'.

All fashion people meditate and do yoga.

And also it makes me feel better that I don't exercise.

So far I have managed about ten minutes a day but not every day, only when I remember. Like twice so far.

It's very hard to meditate.

They say you should pick a comfortable postion.

For me a comfortable position is lying down in bed. It isn't sitting cross-legged on the floor trying to keep my posture perfect. That is a very painful and not comfortable position.

But when you see yogis and Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray Love, meditating, they are always sitting like this and  it somehow feels wrong not to.

Anyway, then you have to concentrate on your breathing. I realised I don't know how to breathe and doing it 'properly' is annoying and makes me not want to meditate ever.

So, uncomfortable postion. Tick. Breathing to the point of almost hyperventilating. Tick.

I have to say, none of this feels at all peaceful, especially with some neighbours' ill-mannered children playing football in the hallway outside my apartment, the builders above my head and husband screaming at the football on TV.

But anyway, I am attempting to be zen etc so I must carry on in the face of such horrific adversity.

The next step, apparently, is to 'try and be present' and then when your thoughts wander, which they will, you allow your mind to gently come back to the moment you are in.

But I can't stop thinking about the What's New section at Net-a-Porter and the Orchids I have to replace and when I will fit meditating in tomorrow's schedule as well as dinner with the girls while being on starvation diet.

So I ask myself, what would Gwyneth do?

I suspect she would hire someone to shop for her, and also do all her meditating.

Some people have all the luck.

P.S On a real spiritual note...here is some good advice from a serious yogi who could really rock a pair of round spectacles

Thursday, 20 October 2011


There is a reason I have been putting off my 90's post.

Firstly, they were my formative years, before I discovered blow-drying, and I don't necessarily want to revisit them.

Second, I don't feel I yet have the benefit of hindsight to accurately judge the era. The 90's were only yesterday.

Only they weren't. I counted. And even in my bad-at-maths counting, I know they ended 11 years ago.

But now that Versace has unveiled a collection for H&M, I can no longer put off the inevitable. The 90's really are back. Sleeveless denim, floral-print bodycon, grunge (eww grunge) an all.

But then I thought about it some more (well I thought about it just now) and realised, the whole fun of retro is you get all the good, some of the bad and none of the very, very ugly.

Like MC Hammer pants. *shudder*

Ie I can wear a babydoll dress and Doc Martens, but I won't get called fat by the guy I have a crush on in English class.

I don't have to prove my worth in life by wearing cycling shorts, LA Gears and a tie-dye t-shirt.

I can wear a pair of green and gold printed trousers and call it 'ironic' (fashion folk love this word, though they don't know what it means)

Or I can wear a cropped top and not have my mother hyperventilate (though I probably won't ever and she still might)

What else can I do?

Oh oh! I can watch Beverly Hills 90210 before it was just 90210 AND I would love to watch My So Called Life and experience it through the eyes of a person who doesn't sob every time Jared Leto comes on the screen. Jordan Catalano, how you broke my heart.

OMG what else did the 90's produce? Hello! Clueless!

I miss the 90's.

P.S Where are we on scrunchies?

P.P.S And bumbags?

P.P.P.S 'He does dress better than me. What would I bring to the relationship?'

P.P. P. P. S Classic.

Friday, 7 October 2011


This laser-cut-to-perfection coat from Louis Vuitton Spring Summer 2012.

There is just nothing mellow about this yellow.... and isn't it so darn pretty?

Marc Jacobs, I have new-found love for you.

Other delectable delights from the Paris show to feast your eyes on include...

This dress can't be real, for real people, in the real world
Kate Moss, little white dress, what's not to love?
Audrey Hepburn goes to the registry office
Fabulous outfit 'you just thew together'
Head to Style.com for the full banquet...yummy.

Monday, 3 October 2011


I need to talk about Ryan Gosling in Crazy, Stupid, Love. So much so, I can't even be bothered to think of an original post title today.

Oh. My. God.

Those three words were involuntarily escaping my lips at various points throughout the film – namely whenever Mr Gosling came on screen, much to the annoyance of the rest of the audience.

And I rarely, rarely say this so I'll say it again. Oh. My. God.

He is the most perfect slice of man known to...well, er, man.

But this is a fashion blog so unfortunately I can’t just go around posting gratuitous pictures of hot men for no reason at all.

Thankfully, the character he plays in this film is impeccably dressed – so you see, we can always use fashion as a guise.

Here goes:

INSERT FASHION QUOTE HERE - 'Now, the Age of Gosling seems imminent if not inevitable. Shades of Michael Caine, certainly, with an unshaven, unfussy twist. It's no mistake the guy's been all over our Week in Style roundups for the past few weeks, either, pulling off sockless loafers, short-sleeved cardigans, and Persol shades with ease. Whether stylist-enhanced or not, Gosling looks like the star many had tabbed him in the afterglow of The Notebook' (GQ)

INSERT ANOTHER QUOTE FOR EXTRA CREDIBILITY HERE - ' He was like a peacock on screen, strutting his stuff in custom made suits with chunky rings and a chain necklace tucked into his open collars. Most of his suits were designed by Albert Hammond Jr. and Ilaria Urbinati, the owner of LA’s Confederacy, who commissioned Brooklyn based tailor and style icon Martin Greenfield to produce the designs, including the green hunting suit he wears while devouring a slice of Sbarro. The film’s costume director, Dayna Pink, sourced shirts from Alexander McQueen, Simon Spurr and Yves Saint Laurent. Gosling went through thirty-six wardrobe changes in total.' (Elle)

Personally, I think the fact that Steve Carell could come close to being remotely attractive after a makeover proves what I have been saying all along...

Clothes absolutely DO maketh the man.

Ok, one gratuitous shot is allowed...

Wednesday, 28 September 2011


Sorry for the ridiculous delay, I had to go to Rome.

But in case anyone still remembers, still cares etc, I DID get a seat at the Burberry show.

But tbh it didn't make all that much difference, I barely noticed the clothes, I was too busy being mesmerised by Anna Wintour.

The woman is fascinating.

She must be some kind of vodoo queen because in a room full of high fashion, supermodels and celebrities, she was the only thing I could concentrate on.

And then she smiled and I nearly fell of my allocated chair.

But forget all that, let's talk about me for a second.

Well more specifically me and Hermes.

I was browsing at the Selfridges branch and by browsing I mean squealing at everything while husband pretended not to know me (it's as if he thinks by being as quiet and invisible as possible he will counter my presence anywhere - as if).

Anyway so let me tell you about the Andre Leon Talley type dude that works there.

Impeccably dresssed and super cool, I wish I had taken a pic.

I was asking if a particular throw came in grey and he said 'do you mean the one in sex and the city'?

And I said, er, no, what one in Sex and the City?

(Apparently there is an Hermes throw in Sex and the City that I don't know about. Oh the shame.)

And he rather dramatically said - looking dapper with a silk scarf tied around his neck - 'You know, in the scene where Carrie is crying in Charlotte's apartment after Big dumps her at the altar - she is wrapped up in it.'

Now, I ask you, where else in the world can you get such encyclopedic fashion knowledge?

Monday, 19 September 2011


I went to the Emilia Wickstead show at my new favourite hotel the Connaught on Friday and today I am attending Burberry in Hyde Park (rumour has it I even have a seat).

On Saturday, I stepped out of my flat to hail a cab to Sommerset House and fell violenty ill on the spot, relinquishing all my tickets for the day.

I see a pattern emerging here and now think I should name rename my blog K & C (and a bit of W1) girl.

Everything you could ever want in life from Manolos to macaroons is located in Kensington & Chelsea, including my office.

And there's even that Saatchi gallery on the King's Road for when you want a bit of culture, though let's be honest, how often does that happen?

I will follow up with my thoughts on Burberry later tonight and let you know if I did indeed get a seat.

I would also like to start a petition to bring Fashion Week back to the Natural History Museum where it belongs. To stop people from falling ill and such things.

P.S Thank you Tats for the beautiful Vogue covers book! It looks super in my living room. Even though currently fighting husband who thinks Syrian Architecture would be a better option. Than Vogue??!!! Don't. Be. Ridiculous.

Friday, 9 September 2011


So I know I just said the 90's are back but do you remember Back to the Future Part II?

Arguably the best Back to the Future of them all. Purely because of all dem cool gadgets...

Well I was screechy excited when I discovered Nike are releasing 1,500 pairs of the trainers worn by Marty McFly in 2015.

Slightly disappointed they are being sold on eBay at auction (ie can't afford) but proceeds are being donated to the Michael J Fox Foundation for Parkinson's disease research, all for a good cause etc..

Tres disappointed the shoes do not lace themselves like they did in the film but whatever they light up, and like most things in fashion, they look good so that's enough for me!

Bids are currently at $5,000ish so get in there....

Now the question is, when's the hoverboard coming out?

P.S Roads...where we're going we don't need roads...

P.P.S Isabel Marant has been causing a stir with her own version. Message is loud and clear. High-tops are in. Heavy. Did I mention the 90s are back?


The definition of regret?

Telling your friend you can't be bothered to join her only to find out she spent hours chatting to male models, designers, X Factor judges and Hollywood stars.

Yesterday was Vogue's Fashion's Night Out, an evening of shopping, champagne and exclusive events at stores in London and yours truly decided not to go.

Why? I wish I even had a lame excuse, like I had to help husband pack for his Miami trip (he's much better at packing than I am). Or I was feeling unwell (does a throat hangover from too many cigarettes last weekend count?)

But no, I decided it wasn't worth being out in the cold (it was warm) the rain (it didn't rain) and the masses (celebrities) to stay in and watch an episode of my favourite Danish crime show, the Killing.

Yes, I'm a geek. Sue me.

Anyway, I was totally comfortable with my decision to opt out until around seven o ' clock when Tweets started coming in thick and fast - Did you see the Dior taxi? The Mulberry pugs? The Burberry band? The Hermes Bangle Bowling Alley?

By eleven, I was literally weeping into my pillow when my friend messaged me.

I expected the usual 'you didn't miss much'. Instead I got 'It was a laugh'.

Ok, a laugh, that's fine. I can handle that.

Wait, what's a laugh?

'It was all very mature' she said 'If you know what I mean.'

No, I don't know what you mean.

'I chatted to Mary Katranzou most of the night' (she's like a way important designer I'm obsessed with)

Really? what else?

'Then I hit Coach, chatted to Tulisa (you know, the new X Factor judge?) Saw Gwynnie, she is so pretty (and skinny and skinny!) but ultimately Mr Gandy was dragging me around - which was cool!
(Gandy, like David Gandy, like D&G model, like OMG)


'You really should have come babe. Such a shame you weren't there'

I turned to husband, wailing that I'm a disgrace to fashion, 'Looook at meeeee! Not even my pyjamas are trendy!'

'Then take them off.'

Eugh. Useless.

P.S How cute is Victoria Beckham's baby girl?? One does wonder though how someone so thin could produce something so chubby.

P.PS The 90s are back. More later. I have yet to discover how I feel about it.

Wednesday, 7 September 2011


I am back from Paris trip after having a great time - with everything in tact but my morale.

But I have picked up some pointers that I think might be useful for anyone travelling there:

1) Expect to be treated like total crap everywhere you. No exceptions.

2) Avoid being in a group of eight girls, people will stare at you like you are aliens from that 'bizarre' place England.

3) Do not wear a mini dress. A female tramp will yell out 'where is your skirt, whore?' outside your hotel.

4) If you are unhappy with your table at dinner, don't ask to move - it won't happen, even if the restaurant is half empty.

5) Booking a table in advance, knowing a hooked-up man in Paris and having the manager on your BBM does not guarantee you entry into a nightclub.

6) No matter how thin or hot you think you are, everyone else is thinner and hotter. Even the transvestites. Especially the transvestites.

7) At the most happening restaurant, don't expect anyone, especially a waitress, to  know the difference between penne and spaghetti. To the French, it's all 'just pasta'. Don't expect soya sauce with your sushi and above all, do not expect that your starters will come before your mains. I have since discovered the reason for this is that 'trendy' Parisians don't eat, so no one has ever complained about the food.

8) You can however expect the bill to arrive within ten seconds of asking for it. Ditto for the credit card machine.

9) If it's raining and you need a taxi - just forget it.

10)  If you do happen to find a taxi, it's highly probable you will get thrown out or shouted abuse at, often for no reason at all.

Wednesday, 31 August 2011


Am off on 'Girls gone Wild' weekend in Paris tomorrow.

I intend on packing the most uncomfortable and impracticable clothes I own.

Why? Two reasons.

1) Husband won't be around to scowl at my outfit, stare at my shoes disapprovingly and warn me while wincing 'Not those again. I'm not carrying you home this time.'

2) Because it's PARIS!

I once read that Parisian women wear high heels to walk to work and then change into flats when they get to the office.

My kind of town.

Au revoir les enfants!

P.S. French accents have a powerful effect on me. I even fancy Pepe Le Pew. He's an animated raccoon. But he's hot.

Tuesday, 30 August 2011



I came across this quote yesterday by Quentin Crisp (I don't know - gay icon and writer according to Wiki)

Anyway, he said 'fashion is what you adopt when you don’t know who you are'.

I very much resent that.

There are many things I adopt because I don't know who I am.

I thought it might be helpful to compile a list.

In no particular order: my Blackbery, social media in general and a worrying addiction to the internet. Writing, a desperate need for approval, a compulsive need to spend money, drinking, eating, dieting, self-help, that friend I don't like anymore but still see so she doesn't say bad things about me behind my back and a fear of missing out on things I have no interest in anyway...

So you see, Quentin (well you're dead now so it's unlikely you care), fashion BARELY scratches the surface.

P.S This is sort of unrelated but when I walked out the office last night, I had this rather overwhelming urge to shop - how come I never feel that way about exercise? Life is so weird like that.

Monday, 22 August 2011



For years I have battled to maintain a size eight figure and sometimes even (flu-or-food-poisoning-willing) managed to drop to a six.

Mostly though, I have lived in fear of gaining the five extra pounds I thought would mark the end of my world.

Then I went on holiday, accidentally ate a few croissants too many and my worst nightmare manifested.

But it turns out, I look exactly the same....

I feel there is a lesson to be learned here.

I will think about it over a Krispy Kreme and let you know what it is.

In the meantime, take a look at some hot chicks who have given in to the fear of not being stick thin and still look pretty damn good:

P.S: I'm not saying it's ok to be fat, cos it's not... but whoever said nothing tastes as good as skinny feels OBVIOUSLY never tried the Thai food I had for dinner last night.


Major excitement!!! I was one of the lucky chosen ones to guest curate for Boticca's website last week.

Bottica is an amaze one-stop shop for all your jewels. 

Original designs, price tags big and small AND every piece tells a unique tale.... 

It's perfect for gifts or just when you want to spend money for no other reason than boredom, instant gratification or rebellion against a husband who has put a ban on shopping.  (How can it be wrong when it feels so right?)

I want everything they sell but here are my favourite picks...

Tuesday, 16 August 2011


Image source: oudailyfashion.wordpress.com

So I don't know if it's age or hindsight or what but after watching lots of Sex and the City this week (deluge of reruns on tv and the film sequel last night) I have come to a few conclusions.

No1: Were we all brainwashed to believe the fashion was really so amazing? It so was not amazing. It was weird. Until the budget got so overblown, clothes were ridiculously unaffordable, especially for a journalist with one column a week (I should know). Then they all got dressed up in Dior and Louboutins to ride a camel in Abu Dhabi and any semblance of reality just died. For ever.

No2: Has anyone else noticed how dramatic Carrie Bradshaw is? Screechy and well over-the-top, and always crying over a man who has a bit of a life and dumping the ones that are actually into her.

No3: I quite love Miranda.

I once furiously defended the show, in writing, to a male friend of mine who accused it of being superficial and bla bla many years ago.

But I have started to see what kind of generation of women this foursome is meant to represent.

Overgrown, over-indulged babies still talking about friendship and soul-mates like they're five, with Carrie at the helm freaking out ALL the time....culminating in the movie sequel which sees her behaving like a raving lunatic when Big suggests staying home on Sunday night, brings home take-away sushi after a tough day at the office or wants to watch a bit of  telly in bed. Poor guy.

And then after Carrie cheats on him with her ex fiance Aidan (remember when she wouldn't even wear Aidan's ring around her finger with that lame excuse of how by wearing it around her neck, it was closer to her heart?) Big buys her the most beautiful black diamond as punishment. Pur-lease.

I now realise Big was so misunderstood.

No wonder he wanted to move to Paris. No wonder he went off and married the beige girl who works at Ralph Lauren.

He should have stayed with her and left Carrie to live in her frizzy hair that she always miraculously blow-dries in under ten seconds with a teeny-tiny dryer that wouldn't even shake the water off a dead ant.

P.S I feel kind of bad now, like I just bitched about my best friend. Or at least a pet.

Thursday, 11 August 2011


The people at Liberty department store are so clever.

They have found a way for (questionably) grown-up women (or men, I don't judge) to indulge in Hello Kitty obsession without looking like they've raided a nine-year-old's bedroom.

Hello Kitty is just one of those childhood trends that reminds me of being young. Like diaries that lock, Pez dispensers and those chewing-gum lollypops that came with tattoos you stuck on with water.

If you can't bring yourself to own-up to your love of the Japanese feline , the collection also includes a sophisticated version (well, who are we kidding? as sophisticated as Hello Kitty can get).

The print will be used on make-up bags and cosmetics (but would love to see a scarf!) and available to buy for two weeks from September 26th.

Makes great gift (cough, ahem).

Wednesday, 10 August 2011


So unless you've been living under a rock this week (which is probably the safest place to be actually), you'll know the UK is in the throws of mass rioting, looting and general chaos.

Have been glued to the television until the early hours, begging husband to emigrate to Florida. He said no. Spain? No. Hong Kong? No. Where then? Just go to sleep. Charming.

I thought that it might be appropriate to put fashion on hold during this time until I saw the new Levi's ad.
It features scenes of rioting while the narrator says things like 'your life is your life' and seems to be causing quite a stir.

It's a beautifully made ad and was obviously filmed before the violence started but still makes for uncomfortable watching given the current climate.

Adweek.com said: 'It's a little risky to embrace youthful rebellion in advertising right now, given that the real-world examples involve so much looting and burning.

'It's odd, then, that Levi's isn't at least delaying the release of its new European ad campaign—which features somewhat menacing imagery of young people gathering, marching and confronting riot police, along with shots of stuff on fire.'

So are Levi's just plain insensitive or eerily astute about what was to come? 

Monday, 8 August 2011


I am back from two weeks away in Spain and suffering from a serious case of holiday blues. I miss the sun, sea, sand and more importantly, the industrial-strength sangria.

I would show you pictures, like all the other super cool blogs out there do but my camera sucks, I lost the lead that connects it to the computer and oh yeah, I didn't actually take any.

Anywaaay, only the prospect of winter clothes and the lace shirts I bought from The Kooples can cheer me up now.

Buying two identical items in different colours is a total no-no in my book but in this case, I  couldn't resist a double purchase. They were on sale... like, two for the price of one, man.

And have a leather collar. Collars are the next big thing. Trust me. Or fine, don't trust me. Trust Vogue. They said it, it must be true.

So white for a summer D & G feel I am crushing on hard right now and black for classic, winter, goes-with- everything, etc etc.

Not even husband knew which one to opt for. For a speedy decision maker (barring the four years it took to marry me, ahem) that is saying something.

I really do heart The Kooples and now that a new store is opening right by my office, that is where you will find me, most weekdays, between one and two pm. No appointment necessary. I take my coffee skinny with two sweeteners, thanks.

P.S On a separate but related note, I am also well excited about my Bionda Castana leopard print wedges that finally arrived, and who knows... I may even wear them WITH my brand new shirts.

You know what they say, if you're not living on the edge, you're taking up space...

PPS Sorry to bang on but really, just look at them, aren't they everything you've ever dreamed of in a shoe....and more...

Sunday, 24 July 2011


I have been whisked away to celebrate one year anniversary in beautiful-but-currently-rainy Venice.

So am holed up in hotel room waiting for the skies to clear.

I haven't been here in about ten years and had completely forgotten how magical this city is.

Walked around for hours crossing canals and getting lost in picture-perfect streets lined with art galleries and Venetian masks.

As much as I assumed a gondola ride would be a total cliche, when I took one yesterday, it was so romantic I suspended disbelief long enough to pretend I was Angelina and husband was Johnny Depp in The Tourist....

Until 'Johnny' gave me a present.

Unwrapping with glee, I wondered excitedly what could it be... an LV scarf? a lace blouse? La Perla lingerie?


An apron....

He bought it at the souvenir stand, apparently.

When I asked what on earth possessed him to purchase such a 'thoughtful' gift, he said it combines his two favourite things in life - food and naked ladies.

He's so modern, my man.

P.S I did also get an amaze pair of snakeskin gladiator flats to go with... So it's not all bad. 

And now I can walk around confidently wearing a body like Angelina's without doing any exercise...

Bring on the carbs, I have my  miracle apron!

Wednesday, 13 July 2011


Bionda Castana is my new obssession.

Not just because it's the brainchild of one of my favourite people, the sublime Natalia Barbieri. Cos it is. And not just because I have a shoe named after me. Cos I do.

But also because these designs are like no other. Swear to god.

When you are fed up with your twenty-five million inch patent platforms and in the mood for ladylike, elegant, stylish, timeless beautifully-made heels, these are the babies for you.

They are like stand-alone pieces that you work your outfit around.

I get like a gazillion compliments everytime I wear a pair and am about to receive my leopard-print wedges. BEYOND excitement.

And when I saw images of the new campaign, I just HAD to share. Stun.

Check more out at biondacastana.com