You let other women make a fool of you

I absolutely cannot wait until Vintage at Goodwood. All road trips and cider and treehouses and grammaphones heaven.

Two days until the big move, am drastically downsizing my wardrobe so anyone wanting a pair of unworn skyscraper wedges size 4, a paul's boutique bag, a bowler hat and various scarves/necklaces and weird lord of the rings-esque celtic headresses (you haven't experienced a truly askance look from a complete stranger until you've worn a circlet whilst buying cigarettes) then let me know.

Adore you all and seeing most of you soon. x

Pay day

Mine mine mine.

Ridiculous things have happened recently, none of which I particularly feel like sharing.

Bad luck.

Had an incredible weekend and I move into my new abode on Friday, I couldn't possibly be more excited.

New beginnings.

Always. Only.

I have a new hobby

I scream in my car. A lot.

Several really good things happened yesterday. I found my will power again, I signed for my new flat in Teddington and I had a few lovely phone calls from some people who I miss enormously.

And I had a few mini-euphoric moments.

I quite seriously don't want anyone. Ever. Recently I've actually tried to be as amiable and pro-relationship as possible and it seriously just isn't me. It doesn't come naturally. So I'm going to stop. Someone told me I expect too much of men and am never going to find what I'm looking for. I think the point of that was to suggest I "lower my expectations", but in fact I'm just dropping out of the game. I just can't imagine ever wanting to share that much of myself with anyone, at best I think I'd just want someone to chaperone me around and stand there looking pretty, not contribute to the conversation and most certainly not expect anything in return.

So in three weeks time I'll be living in Teddington, near Hampton Court, and with my local on the River Thames.

You know what's odd? I've been in London all day having a lovely time and yet I'm in a foul mood all because I wrote a post-it note for myself saying "Look at ferries for isle of wight fest" and my dad crossed it out and wrote "you're coming on the boat with us". And I literally had an epic tantrum of five year old proportions. Because no I am NOT coming on the boat with them and there is a reason why I need to take the ferry. And I'm in an utterly foul mood because I'm fed up with people telling me and what I am and am not doing when there are quite clearly reasons as to why I do or don't do what I choose to do.

Anyway,

I'm off to bed some unsuspecting men and then never call.

PG Tips

One of you can be quite the arrogant twat these days. Which I despise, because I adore you. Smugness isn't cheeky or teasing, it's incredibly provocative and all you do is inspire me to say something biting and cut you down to size. Which I don't do, because I love you and I'd regret it. Oh and also, you're being completely played everyone else can see it except you. You deserve so much better so stop letting us all take advantage.

ffs

I actually want to scream.

Long live McQueen

Actually, I have all my McQueen pictures lined up ready to post on another tab, but to be perfectly honest I'm really not in the mood to wax lyrical over Lobster shoes and Jack The Ripper Fall 2009 (which was, having said that, epic).

The whole reason I felt inspired to write a post about him just now, days after the actual event, is because I read Tavi's blog. And it really irked me.

"It seems like I haven't stopped crying for days".

Admittedly the girl is thirteen and quite possibly a highly strung emotional wreck what with all the media attention she gets (and the girl has taken to wearing sunglasses indoors ala Wintour when front row at couture), but the number of posts from adults echoing her sentiments I find more than a little bit vulgar.

He was an absolute fashion genuis and one of the most inspiring, eclectic and inventive talents ever produced by our country, but to cry over it? I think that right has already been reserved by family and friends, and it makes me a little bit sick.

Tragic day for the fashion industry, but not personally for you. Get over it.