Tower bridge, London

Black shearling jacket – Muubaa. Cashmere sweater – The White Company. Dress – ASOS. Black Jeans – James Jeans. Boots – Sergio Rossi via the Outnet. Bag – Alexander Wang Kirsten tote via the Outnet. Thank you Kit for helping with the shots!

I’m trying this new thing where I don’t make my outfit posts HappyMeal posts, because lately I’ve been sneaking in half-arsed outfit shots with some great eating experiences that really deserve full features of their own (eg 1 | 2 | 3 ). So when I say HappyMeal posts – introducing the cool eatery is the ‘toy’ bit, while my sartorial choices that accompany the post like an afterthought, the undersized, under-satisfactory kid meal. If you were in the kind of family where HappyMeal is currency of good behaviour, you’ll be familiar with the fact that once you get the toy out, you no longer care what goes in your mouth – a fry, a sawdust McNugget. As long as the toy keeps you entertained, your parents shovel the food in no problem. My point is, I’m now in a habit where I don’t post anything until I eat out somewhere cool, which is NEVER because I also happen to work full time and really would prefer eating pillow stuffing at home (preferably while sleeping). So here goes, back to basics, ‘punching-in’ my fashion blogger time-card, so to speak. Lots of me, from different angles, wearing stuff that’s probably not even fashionable to begin with. Oh but I love that shearling jacket from Muubaa.

Little sneak-peak of the Printemps x Dior Christmas windows!

And pile of meat for lunch before shopping, naturally.

Here she comes! I’m here Marion, kiss me.

Coat

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– Zara. Khaki silk shirt- Iris & Ink. Midi-skirt – ASOS. Heels – Christian Louboutin Corneille. Bag – Reiss Mira. Belt – LV via Vestiaire Collective; Outfit shots by Kit

I’m sorry if lately it’s just been Paris this and Paris that, but let’s be honest, you can’t really blame me, can you. Same way you can’t blame me for sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to eat Nutella out of the jar while burning up the refrigerator lightbulb, which is pretty much always. It’s universal magic, we all know that. And seeing that my life is spectacularly, extra, extra ordinary (mind the gap), a quick trip to Printemps in Paris with Kit for an early taste of Christmas should no doubt be considered, extraordinary. Especially when it includes sparkling windows and a whole world of Dior behind a sheet of glass. Glass of course, makes this magical world much easier to reach than 1) the thick wardrobe doors of Narnia, or 2) a brick column to Platform 9¾ – technically at least. Plus I bet that window smells like Miss Dior from the inside and actually full of Helium gas that’s leaked out from the balloons. Squeakiddy-squeak-squeak, sang the dolls.

Thank you Ykone & Printemps for having us! (See last year’s mini-Karl domination in Printemps x Chanel windows)

A slightly-too-early-to-function breakfast in the clouds

Leather jacket – Day Birger et Mikkelsen. Padded down-vest – Uniqlo. Silk top – Partimi via A Boy Named Sue. Wool dress – ASOS. Boots – ASOS. Bag – Kurt Geiger. Scarf – DIY Knitted snood. Body rope – Brook & Lyn.

Ohh I feel like one of those plastic baby dolls that have eyelids that close when you tilt horizontally, or a roly poly toy… anyhoo, the world is swinging. I’d always wondered what sorcery was behind the mechanism for the eyelids, but I’ve figured it out now. Them dolls too must’ve gotten up at stupid-o-clock to get on a bus full of 6am bobbing heads and cerealy morning breath, and cruised down along a rose-coloured sunrise to have breakfast on the 40th floor at Duck & Waffle. I must’ve still been asleep when ordering too, because I asked for breakfast tea instead of coffee, and ordered sourdough bread with Nutella and a bowl of fruit in yoghurt – all the things we have IN ABUNDANCE at home. Hubby went for a glorious full on English breakfast with a cup of americano – perfect choice, really – so I challenged him to find North out the window and I stole a strip of bacon or five.

Book an insane-o-clock breakfast at Duck & Waffle (open 24/7, believe it or not, but book in advance) when you’re next in town, or a dinner, but make sure you arrive around 5pm for drinks and see the best show as the sun sets and the city lights up. The view is spectacular, and the lift down (Floor 40 to 1 express) adds to the whole thrill. The price-point isn’t too bad too – £12 for hubby’s  full-on fuel on, and £7ish for my sleepyhead bird food, plus caffeine. It’s really an unbelievable way to start a murky-weather Monday, but now I’m going to bed and sleeping like a dead person.

Leather knot bracelet – COS. Watch – Sekonda. Wallet – Stella McCartney Falabella wristlet (c/o Harrod’s)

Studded boots – Chloé Susan (c/o Net-A-Porter). Shoes – ASOS

Coat – Mango. Jeans – James Jeans. Cashmere sweater- Uniqlo. Shoes – ASOS. Bag – Kurt Geiger Rhubarb rock. Snood – DIY Knitted. Silver necklace – Gift from mummy (Korea)

Sometimes I forget that my ‘normal’ friends have no idea I’ve been blogging for the past four years, and by blogging I mean scrambling around in a hamster-wheel charging for the vague unknown, and generally being occupied full-ish time doing so. I didn’t plan on letting this define my life, and if I still have a say, I’d like it not to, but I’m slowly starting to realise that I’ve subscribed to a very particular brand of lifestyle brought on by this business of web logging. It all became clear, really, when Carrie and I went to Paris for a night (yes, girl-on-girl details if you come back after midnight, you know it) for a small project with YSL Beauté, and all throughout I had this odd sense of comfort. The type of comfort that comes with the fact that I can hand her my camera and then pose as if the camera isn’t there, or the fact that we’ve mentally agreed on meeting at my room in twenty minutes, fully dressed and ready for some outfit shots. She will know exactly why we’re going out on a five-mile walk in 4-inch heels with a pair of foldable flats in our bags, and why I insist on hovering over our rapidly-cooling crêpes that we waited half a frozen hour to get our hands on for the sake of a photo (which, as you can see, didn’t even make the cut). Is this all getting a bit weird? Are we perhaps editing ‘the moment’ and never enjoying it as is? With that said, I had a swell time with Carrie and the YSL Beauté team, and Paris is even more stunning in the autumn.

If you’re in Paris make sure to visit the Chloe.Attitudes exhibition, curated by Judith Clark, at Palais de Tokyo before it closes on the 18th of November!

It’s no secret that I have a huge crush on Chloé, (hey, way to spice things up for the few non-fashiony folks – come back after midnight and I’ll share all the juicy girl-on-girl details) so I was massively chuffed to find out that I was one of the 26 bloggers picked for Chloé Alphabet, the digital arm of the 60-year anniversary celebration. Sixty years! That alone is worth applauding – I should know, I’ve been me for 25 years. If you’re anything like me and must sing the alphabet-song to find out what comes after F, then you too will find this amusing – every Chloé collection is named in alphabetical order, with every piece in it given a name beginning with the hero letter. (So basically impossible to determine seasons by order, unless you’re counting while singing. See? Impossible.) It was the founder, Gaby Aghion’s idea to give life to each design, and therefore collectively forming a mosaic of the brand’s iconic moments, inspirations and heritage. You see, Chloé was my Day One of Fashion (or shall we say, ABCs) – before I learnt Lagerfeld wasn’t a beer company, before I wore socks with sandals, and long before bloggers sat front row at fashion weeks – In 2007, I was fresh out from the nest but I hadn’t yet graduated from getting pleasure from twirling in my flowy ballerina skirts, at least not in spirit, which is how I fell for the world of Chloé. She was the girl next door, the window opposite mine that had the sheer pink curtains that floated in the wind, I wanted to be her. F is for Fluidity, for free-flowing long hair and billowing silk dresses.

OH. I’m still waiting for the triple-strap pumps from umpteen seasons ago to resurface. Although, if I did ever lay my hands on them they will share the sad fate of my books and just sit pretty on the wall.