Hello Friends,

My week has been positively Meh! Incredibly Blah! As well as complete and utter Shhh…

Getting home after hours from work… like ALL WEEK and having to stand up on public transport, *tuts* like the ENTIRE JOURNEY *rolls eyes*.
However there have been some highlights…
These include:
Old Rasta man clipping his (dinosaur-cretin-like) finger nails on the Tube, then having the audacity to scrape the dirt out from beneath them, rolling this into a ball and then flicking it onto the floor.
Eastern European man, digging ferociously into his nostrils, as if he were trying to locate Where’s Wally. He also had the cheek to roll the remnants into a ball and flick it onto the floor. Hate for public transport?
African lady, snapping her gum loudly in my ear on the Overground (pet hate Numero Uno), whilst shouting down the phone as if she were really trying to communicate to the other side of the earth.
Purchasing Haagendaaz ice-cream from the Turkish shop up my road, getting home excitedly – only to discover a moldy and thawed Cookie Dough – Yes I did still attempt to eat it. These are hard times.
A dog dressed in a coat cuter than mine with a strut fiercer than Grace Jones’.
School kids rocking hairstyles that I used to have in the 90’s… Nostalgia.
Lastly, being given far too many back-handed compliments, like, “Oh my gosh, like, you’re hair is soooo nice, and sooo long…. for a black girl.”
You should have seen this girl attempt to awkwardly talk her way around my bemused expression – and then suddenly change the subject.

Such is life. I have been suffering with mild depression since the sun went on holiday to the Southern hemisphere. I genuinely suffer from Vitamin D deficiency. No joke. So that Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) really does exist to all you fellow skeptics out there. You see, I leave my house and its dark outside. I leave work and its dark outside. If it wasn’t for lunchtimes, I would be sure that London is drenched in permanent darkness. These are the chilling times where I begin to pop pills (supplements) like the crack-heads in my local park comatose on the floor with shit up their backs. Often.

Speaking of parks, here I am enjoying my local, sans la tete de la crack.

I am a tart(an) deep down, underneath all of this class.

And by the end of the day, all I wanna do is strip off and ‘Baroque’ and roll.

Cape, Vintage
Jumper. £22, New Look
Skirt, £30 (sale) River Island
Clutch Bag, 19.99, Zara
Tights, £4, Marks and Spencer
Shoes, £60, OFFICE
Bangles, £6.99 each, New Look
Lipstick “Cyber” £12 MAC
Nail Polish in “Pom Pom” £6, WIP by Urban Outfitters

Before you ask, the cape is one of my AMAZING Scottish Vintage finds, I know, im pretty proud of myself for this positively gorge’ number, however my eczema doesn’t agree. It decides to ACT UP – As it does with most Lambs-wool garments.
But can we talk about this jumper?
Well there’s a story behind this legendary find *Old Skool Hip Hop Vocal* …”and it goes a little sumfin’ like dis..”
My good mate-slash-colleague Beckface and I, were shopping around High Wycombe on one of our rare lunch breaks, it was a Tuesday, and were were looking for one of those shit, cookie monster shaggy jumpers. You know the ones that feel so good to cuddle, but are a ball-ache to wear? Those. By the way, I do hope you are not still reading this in that Hip Hop vocal…
Anywho, I had recently purchased this FAB-U-LOCIOUS over-embellished mini skirt, from good ole’ River Island, in the sale. It is so dramatic, and a bit on the weeny side (thighs are screaming for air) I needed a baggy knit to tone it all down. So the hunt was on. Our first pit-stop was Miss Selfridge. We found a super-cute cream fluffy jumper; it possessed the purrfect amount of fluff, but failed on the itchy front. It was also a little too tight, and by the time I put it up against myself and looked in the mirror, I had decided that I wanted a bigger, blacker and better one. So onto Topshop we wandered, in search of this big black number. Topshops’ find was an all black, knit and fluff mix; this one had horizontal strips; alternating between knit and shag. Only problem was, the knitted bit clung in awkward places, making me look like the big, black Michelin mans’ wife. It was also fanny skimming. Beckface and I HATE anything fanny skimming. For those of you that don’t know. fanny skimming is a term reserved for blouses/knits/shirts that hem just above the camel-toe. Not a good look. Also, this fanny-skimming-Michelin-Mama jumper was a pinch at £42. So, off to New Look for a £22 dupe it was.

Ahh New Look, often overlooked due to your cheap prices, mass production and funny fitting clothing. However, I must admit, lately New Look has indeed been giving Toppers a run for their money. There she was hanging boldly in the corner, all shaggy and unkept. I skipped toward her, searched frantically for a Medium, and once found I held her close. This was our moment. I slipped her on, over my t-shirt she flowed – she felt so soft and furry. This top was perfect. Slipped easily past the camel-toe and sat at ease at my thighs… There was only one problem… the stupid ribbed arms. I mean, why, New Look? Why do you have to be all different and quirky? What’s with the stupid ribbed arms? A few quick turn-ups and she was just right, like a big shaggy T-shirt. Take note New look. This is what you do with stupid, unnecessary ribbed arms.

New Look Jumper

And here are some of the other magical finds from that lunchdate with Beckface…

Zara Clutch

River Island Skirt

WIP Nail Polish

Get to rockin’

La Minx