Wearing: Sweater – American Apparel. Tartan pants – Zara (similar). Watch – Guess. Heels – Lucy Choi. Bag – c/o Michael Kors (via Selfridges).

So, are we loving this new weather or what? This murky, yucky, wet weather that induces PMS* and general serial-killer urges. I personally love it because, HELLOoo pasta! (RIP diet) That’s right, it’s sweater season – even as I write this I’m digging through a pick’n’mix bag of Haribo + Skittles + candy corn assortment in full confidence that tomorrow I can just cover it all up with an oversized knit and call it an outfit. Pop on a berry-coloured lipstick and a cherry-on-top kinda bag, and presto you’re ready for civilization. There’s a wee Instagram competition hosted by Selfridges and Michael Kors now with a runway look worth £1,000 and a few other goodies up for grabs, and I’d instagrammed earlier how I’d wear my own Michael Kors Dressy, but I might as well pop it up here properly as well in case you wanted to get involved. The competition lasts from the 17th till the 31st of October, and all you’ll have to do is tag #HowIWearMyKors. More deets here!

Oh, and I don’t know if this is too early an announcement, but seeing as I’m now filling in snugly into my boyfriend jeans, I’m going as Peter Griffin on Halloween. All I need me is a Lois, and Jennifer Lawrence, I’m looking at you.

*FYI, I like my PMS, I like to think it gives me character (i.e I f*cking love this leaf!) 

Giorgio Armani: Le rouge ecstasy

Ecstasy Rouge #503

Ecstasy Rouge #304 ‘Heat’

Wearing: Black dress – Zara. Slingback heels – Lucy Choi. Grey sweater – American Apparel. Door-knocker ring – & Other Stories. Chevron knuckle Ring – We the Hatters. Textured rings – H&M. Bejewelled rings – ASOS. Nail Polish – Anna Sui (via ASOS)

Here’s another thing that makes my knees go weak now that I’m well past my mid-twenties – yes, beautiful lipsticks, but more specifically THE MAGNET that holds the cap secure and makes such a sexy snap noise it makes you purr a little. I know the technology has been around for quite some time now, but now that I’m in that stage where my life is acutely edited into the contents of one handbag, it’s starting to matter whether one day the inside of my bag looks like a drag queen or not. Alas, I’m clearly not yet old enough to understand the full potential of le make-up pouch that would essentially localize the hot mess, but I don’t want said hot mess anywhere other than my face, thank you. Anyhoo. These siren-red beauties are from the Giorgio Armani lipstick collection, Le Rouge ecstasy, a  new line introducing a “CC” innovation, or “Colour and Care”, that focuses on high-opacity, velvety colour, matched with moisturising comfort. I’ve had a chance to play around with a couple and personally love the darker colours in the range, which probably is another sign of getting older… well, this missus ain’t seducing no one in this household with coral-coloured lipsticks for sure. I’m kidding, please believe me.

As a bonus, here’s a rather hypnotic marriage of beat and beauty by Giorgio Armani Beauty, and if you’re extra bored, here’s my own lame attempt at beats.

Collaborative post with Giorgio Armani beauty; Shot in South Place Hotel. Thank you Kit for helping with these shots

Wearing: Trenchcoat – Mummy’s old Burberry from the 80’s. Jeans – James Jeans. Cardigan – Chanel. T-shirt – Supertrash. Glasses – Ace & Tate

I know I exaggerate a fair bit in this blog (i.e I haven’t slept last night so I MAY DIE), but I wasn’t actually kidding when I said I spent the whole week in Paris bumming in and around the rented flat, in my last post. The flat was on Rue Oberkampf, a third-floor walk-up just above a shabby bar heaving with ‘le cool’ after 10pm, all of which basically characterizes the entire neighbourhood. Oberkampf is a bit of a Dalston in Paris, a slightly grungier area on the fringes of a ‘hip’ part of town like Shoreditch, or Le Marais, in this case. Jin, his girlfriend and I met for dinner in the area and simply ended up shooting all these photos, mucking around in the neighbourhood. He shoots streetstyle by day (for Topshop and his own streetstyle blog), which is how I got to know him in the first place, but it was the photos he did ‘by night’ that I loved, and sure enough, by the time we were out of the restaurant his Contax was out from his jacket. I’d just recently found a great glasses brand called Ace & Tate via Fashiolista, and got a few pairs matched with a newly updated prescription for my ever bat-like eyesight, and wanted to share here somehow. This just turned out to be so much more fun way than the usual jazz – posing but not posing, just short of shooting with a baguette shoved up my nose, and visible or not, there’s a jelly worm in my mouth in each shot.

Photography Jin Oh; Edit and layout Park & Cube

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.

Louis Vuitton Spring Summer 2014

Louis Vuitton Spring Summer 14 collection, Paris; See the entire collection here.

Always personally a step late on fashion news, from start to finish this show was the usual Marc, a succession of delight: glimpses of pink coming through the queue into the show, the French maids that brushed the staircases Finalewith ostrich-feather dusters, and the near-complete darkness behind the doors. Almost too dark – guests were thumbing their phones, not to join the tweeting, but in attempts to illuminate the corridor to the showspace. Then came the hotel porters with mini torches, briefly lighting up the invitations and informing left or right in French. To the left, there was a black fountain that spewed water, also black in the light; to the right, a black carousel, flanked by two wrought-iron elevators each guarded by two doormen. A trainstation clock shone through the black horses of the carousel, its light gently riding down a pair of double escalators under. Upstairs, the corridor was studded with dark hotel doors. It was all too strange and familiar, and yet in my blissful ignorance, was a delight to me.

The clock counted down 60 seconds at exactly 10:00am, and unseated guests scrambled to find a corner in the dark. The models walked out balancing a Stephen-Jones designed ostrich headpiece, donning a collection that swung from glittery showgirl, to punk, to sports (of the rugby sort). The occasional denim, and the barely-there thongs. The choreography took the models through each of the landmarks, striding through the Mongolian lamb rugs, a ride on the carousel, then up the escalators, down the corridor, and down the elevator. At on point it felt like a funeral, a thought I’d quickly brushed aside before training my long lens back on a dress. At the end, Marc Jacobs , and across the floor I saw Anna Wintour starting a wave of standing ovation across the first and second row. The news reached me only as the lights came back on and the seats were emptying, during a frustrated attempt to upload a tweet, and accidentally reading others. Then everything just clicked. I feel a little foolish to have experienced it all in complete oblivion, but on hindsight, I think it made it all the more special – Marc’s last show, a grand compilation of the past seasons, a final mix-tape of sorts and something to remember for years to come.