Marc Jacobs Wellington

Cashmere sweater, Muriee. Boyfriend Jeans, ASOS. Booties, Sam Edelman Rowin. Specs, YesStyle, Bag, Marc Jacobs Wellington

Just a quickie before I go tip a huge bowl of rice crackers from the lounge snack-bar into my boyfriend jeans for the 8am flight back home. I’m wearing the exact pair now and by happenchance caught a glimpse of my reflection at Tokyo Narita airport and honestly thought it looked like I pooped me pants. In a good way, like, you-ain’t-gonna-pat-me-down-there-surely type of convenience. Anyhow, this is probably not the outfit to be posting while on a layover in 35ºC+ (95ºF) Dubai, but I’m quickly learning that it’s not summer in London if there isn’t at least one piece of cashmere in a July outfit, so to heck with it. This Muriee piece is another one of those that fly on and off the couch with an indecent wash vs. wear count ratio, with a shape so boxy that so effectively conceals all stages of le food baby. My favourite bit is the fact that the cashmere is dyed with berries and leaves, brownie points for eco-friendliness!

Shot in London before leaving for Japan; Thank you Kit for helping with the snaps.

Petersham Nurseries, Richmond

Bag, Marc Jacobs Wellington

Petersham Nurseries Café

Image shot for and courtesy of Editer.com

Image shot for and courtesy of Editer.com

Image shot for and courtesy of Editer.com

Image shot for and courtesy of Editer.com

Baby beetroot with barrel-aged feta salad by Chef Greg Malouf – Recipe & more info available at Editer.com

 Petersham Nurseries, Church Lane, Off Petersham Road, Richmond, Surrey, TW10 7AG

Since all eyes & ears are on Federer’s back-hand and Serena’s grunts in Wimbledon I thought I’d share another compelling destination in a similar area: Petersham Nurseries in Richmond, which is just 6 miles (or 20 mins car-ride) from the courts. Mind, I live in North-East London and this this as South, and West as it gets without dropping off the map – the journey’s over an hour on the tube and my mind leaked out around about Willesden Junction… so when I finally got there my mood was down to a silent-growl (nevermind the screams of seat-pattern embedded buttcheeks). Of course, the tendency of my mood is like that of a Pomeranian, and shall we say Petersham Nurseries was a beef jerky wrapped in a sock. The place was a breath of fresh air – literally – with roses, ferns, foxgloves, jasmine and hydrangea that were exhaling scents while the red dirt floor smelled of of fresh rain (the weather was trying to be nice, as Sophie cleverly put it). We met the star chef Greg Malouf as he demonstrated how to make Baby beetrood with barrel-aged feta salad at the cafe, then I wandered off to explore their home-ware & antiques shop while the taxi never came. I mean, it did come in the end, with much coercion and one too many threat calls (think an episode of 24),  but it did give me time to pick out exactly what I wanted to get the next time I braved a trip down again. I’ll just need to bring a truck and lottery money, that’s all.

Edit: Just realised they take orders online/over the phone too but I’ll pretend not to have seen that.

Sandals, Dune

V-neck tee, YesStyle. Heels, ASOS Sienna. Boyfriend Jeans, ASOS. Headphones, Urbanears. Brown satchel, ASOS. Leather Bracelet, COS. Watch, GUESS (Have you entered the GUESS One to Watch competition!?), Gingham bike-seat, YesStyle; Photos on rows 4,5,6,7 taken for Editer feature

Pop quiz: What does Ceviche, iced lemonade on a humid day, 2-for-1 sale at Sainsbury’s and cushioned flats during LFW have in common? Answer: The ‘Ahhrrrhhhhhhhhhhh‘ from an angelic choir that fill your head and relieve your stress-bar of gremlins and oafs (oaves? no). It’s one of those difficult-to-explain things that forces you give a vague explanation but also allows you to witness that rare surprised look on your ever-sceptical dining buddy as the first fork goes in – you know – the subtle hop of eyebrows and the curt nod before he catches your eyes and says ‘yeahhh it’s alright’. Pah, men and egos. Personally, when I had my first bite while shooting for Editer not only did I join in with my angel choir with a high-pitched medley (think ‘Oh Happy Day‘) but there was also hooting and banging of spoons on the table some. It’s that good. And as far as vague explanation goes, Ceviche (of Peruvian kitchen) – is basically raw fish and seafood marinated in spicy citrus juice, or what they call Tiger Milk. I obviously had a brief moment of imaging milking a tiger and thinking THAT’S RIDICUWOOS, but a sip of it induced another angelic ‘Arrhhhhhhh‘ plus a happy tiger roar and then I understood why the name. So there you have it, a perfect birthday lunch with le hubby. (Bday is actually the 4th but since every year I’m busy counting fireworks [FOR ME!?] we decided to celebrate earlier.)

Speaking of birthdays and delights, got some fun news from the lovely folks at Motilo: An opportunity to win a ridicuwoos amount of dosh to spend at NET-A-PORTER.COM. I have my eyes on a certain PS1 classic or contents of a full suitcase to take to Japan next week. In fact, the competition ends on the 10th of July and that’s just about when I fly so I’ll see you, suitcase, at the airport. Note: if you’re feeling generous, please feel free to enter with variations to my name (i.e Shini Parko, Shini Parkookoo, Shini Pee…etc) and I’ll never complain that someone spelt my name wrong in an email again.

Château de Fontainebleu

Neoprene Jacket, H&M trend. Jeans, Levi’s. Scarf, Alice & Olivia. Sunnies, Jeepers Peepers. Oxford Shirt, hubby’s Ralph Lauren. Chelsea Boots, Topshop

So… remember that giggle-and-titter trip to Disneyland from a few moons past with Jen, Fred & hubby? Believe it or not, there was quite a journey before we reached happily ever after in the land of dreams – no I’m not referring to the Eurostar ride. I’m talking about the shuffle into van and drive down towards the gleaming castle and towards a distant, yet still squeaky-clear, melody of ‘it’s a small world afterall’ and everyone hoots – even the boys – then driver takes sharp left and continues down 45 minutes through French countryside and passengers sulk silently type of journey. Later we found out the Vienna International Hotels team had so gracefully planned an extensive itinerary, which involved of touching four corners of the Disney experience, where three don’t sell princess dresses. Disneyland was first corner, naturally; second was Paris – an hour van-ride from the Dream Castle Hotel, where we got tipsy and watched boobies jiggle on stage. La Vallée Village was third, the outlet shopping village (think Bicester Village) two minutes from the hotel where I was denied purchasing a certain pair of Céline sandals marked £190 by hubby who pulled the leash (mostly expressing disgruntle over unfulfilled one-in-one-out policy). Fourth and last was Château de Fontainebleu, home of many, MANY Kings, Queens, Emperors and Empresses’ over the past eight centuries. Let me first apologize for the amount of photos you’ve had to scroll through and here’s a Gatorade for your fingers. (Olympic spirit!) By the third chamber I gave up with the tourguide and lagged behind, it felt a crime to simply brush by the breathtaking details of each room – the brilliant colours, intricate patterns and rich textures… Heck, I know this sounds oddly grown-up and therefore incredibly unlike moi but I’d actually like to visit Disneyland again and dedicate one whole day checking out the 9/10th of the palace we missed. Dibs on the palace if I ever become King of France.

One piece, Three looks: Knee-length chino trousers

Wallet, Chloe

Look 1 (from left to right): Mint Sweater, H&M. Patterned blouse, Zara. Shorts, Uniqlo. Sandals, Camilla Skovgaard, Straw Bag, Chloe
Look 2: Jacket, Barbour. Checkered blouse, Motel Rocks.Shorts, Uniqlo. Bag, Marc Jacobs (via Monnier Freres). Shoes, Kate Kanzier. Headphones, Urbanears. Belt, JHYoo. Cat-eye Sunnies, Beyond Retro
Look 3: Bag, Bottega Veneta Initials. Shoes, Coii.kr. Sleeveless blazer, ASOS Africa. Checkered Top, stolen from mummy. Shorts, Uniqlo.

You know how summers go. Vacations, festivals, family reunions, hairplugs, cider by the river, breast reduction surgery, sample sales, that one trip to the zoo where you swear off children forever… I know you know what I mean, you’re BUSY, so, what blog? Well. None of those happened to me in the past postless week so sadly no point getting excited (do we count slamming chest-on into a shelf ‘reduction surgery’? YES/NO). In fact I was home the entire week working 9-to-5 in my suit (suit for super-cool stuff like sleeping) migrating from desk to bed and occasionally the postbox for Dominos Pizza flyers. ‘Tomorrow!’ was the battle-cry, and this blog was the victim in one. Hey, I’m back now, with chino shorts (what an odd thing to comeback in) – I bet you’ve never seen anything like this in a glossy magazine before! In fact I’d fold them neatly and place them in a box with the power drill and a jug of motor oil, marked ‘Utility Stuff’. It was fun though, the challenge of trying to style one, and since I was on a roll of NOT blogging this is a pretty good brain teaser to help reverse directions and roll the other way towards a land of bountiful motivation and cakes, lots of cakes…

Many thanks to Kitty Kat for helping with the photos