Sweater- H&M, Skirt – Topshop, Jeans – Courtesy of Raw Denim Bar, Shoes – Chloe Sevigney x Opening Ceremony, Bag – on loan from Mulberry, Silver Clutch – ASOS, Planner – Filofax

World, meet my I will never wear these bastards again shoes. They were determined as shelf ornament since the last time it stumpified my poor feet, banished to live a life among the books…. but I guess this is how women go on to have their second child, all memory of pain wiped clean. Did I just compare invaluable childbirth to walking on hooves? Perhaps, but the pain surely induces a similar kind of reaction of wanting to squat in a corner and wail like a pirate with seasickness, yarr?

Thank you Daniel of Bloglovin’ for helping with the photos!

Sweater – Vintage, Shirt – Zara, Dress – Vagabond Van, Shoes – Chloe Sevigny x Opening Ceremony, Socks – Happy Socks (via Tobi), Bag – JHYoo, Necklace – Jennifer Loiselle, Watch – ASOS

Ever since I started going steady with my bicycle (relationship status: level 2, bickering has commenced, usually on the topic of why I manage to drive her into every pothole available on the street) (Purposefully darling, I like it rough) my flats: heels ratio produces a pacman piechart. These past few weeks I’ve been hearing new lines from people: 1) were you always this short? and 2) COME OON POKEMON. The latter mostly by my significant other, blowing past me on his own megafast singlespeed ride and yelling YOU ARE SUCH A SLOWPOKE. Hence the new nickname. Anyway, these Opening Ceremony boots put me back in that familiar airspace, +5inch AMSL, one where you can sniff the nearest bakery before the rest of the herd can. They also seem to put me on the ring of fire, with every step wobbling like 8.2 on the richter scale. WHAT IS UP WITH THESE GEOGRAPHY ANALOGIES. (Also notice how I go a little schizo with the brackets)

Thank you Kit for the outfit snaps!

Shoes – Courtesy of Upper Street, Anklet – ASOS, Nail Polish – Organic Phramacy

Shhh, shh for a second, do you hear that screeching? That, dear readers, would be the noise coming from the cogs grinding in my cage as I try to make decisions. Back when I was in uni, Ellen and I used to shoo away our waiter five times before deciding on what to get – we’d eenie-meenie-minie-mo the menu and end up with spinach goo, apple crumble and carrot juice. Think it would’ve been tastier to catch a tiger by the toe and grill that instead. I KID YOU NOT, this Upper Street session took longer than it took for me to write my dissertation. Wait, that’s not saying much is it, all you students already know it was written in the bus on the deadline morning… After hours of rotating the virtual foot round and round, consulting my inner genius shoe-designerness, I sort of… ended up copying this Calvin Klein Collection sandals from SS11. (China Woman had no part in this.)
I was actually really surprised at the quality of the final product and the effort they made into interpreting the extra requirements I added in the order (two straps in different colours…etc). I was worried the straps would make it too flimsy, but the Upper Street technicians managed to deliver a well-functioning contraption and I therefore managed to avoid falling in the algae-infested canal with a snapped heel.

Do you think if I eenie-meenie-minie-mo’d the shoes, they’d end up looking like Kit’s design?  (I love you Kit, really)

Thank you Upper Street & PushPR!

Shirt-dress – Courtesy of Flik Hall, Pants – Zara DIY cut-off jeans, Shoes – Courtesy of Heavy Machine, Bag – ASOS, Jacket – Barbour

I think I may have discovered a new fruit, ladies and gentleman. Events from the past few days have helped uncover the existence of a magical species, in the same family as the banana, the ba-radioactive-neon-green-peel-lining-nana. I have discovered that, despite my entire life in a Western setting with aspirations not unlike an American teenager’s (running a Babysitter’s club, going to prom, getting punched by a mean girl), there is powerful Asian tiger-mum blood coursing through my veins, melting vital organs. If I had it my way, the London Riots would be dealt with kimchi-smeared fingers and a putter club from daddy’s golf-shrine. Yes, some say the riots were the cries of the neglected underclass, the abandoned youth deprived of role models, but before questioning the government on bad parenting, punishment should be ruthless. I personally don’t believe in beating as part of child raising, but a stick has always been a part of my childhood, and I can’t deny that there was always a lesson to be learnt behind every strike. So I don’t steal, well, except from looters, I’ll strip the hoodies off your back and DIY the crap out of it. Hide yo kids, hide yo wives.

There’s no doubt those involved in such shameful, disgusting acts have deserved the ‘Scum’ title, and it’s clear that the rule-abiding citizens have proved our worth by not retaliating but instead cleaning after the idiots, but please let’s do our best to train them not to soil the carpet in the first place. Use a water gun, or a rolled-up newspaper, give them good role models, invest in their future…

Thank you Alice (of Alicepoint) for helping with the shots

Screenshots from Hurts – Better than Love video (Youtube)

Shirt, Trousers, Bag, Watch, Belt, Boots – All ASOS

I never know what I’m expected to say when someone asks what my ‘feel-good’ outfit is – am I meant to point out to the stuff in my wardrobe that makes me feel good? Handcuffs make me feel good, the ones with fluff and diamanté embellishments… OK what’s with the bondage references? STOPPING. Anyway, I’d always give some sort of vague answer that was just another way of saying  ‘stuff-you-wear-to-bed’, but I think after putting this outfit together I now understand what it means to feel good in an outfit. As part of a challenge from ASOS‘ Music Inspires Fashion column I was asked to put together an outfit inspired by a band, and I settled for the utilitarian gentleman look of Hurts (Thanks Kit for the tip!). I guess I couldn’t stick to one character and it all ended up as a mix of Theo’s brooding glare + Adam’s piano arm roll-ups + the slick-haired girls in shirts & suits… or none of that and one very diluted Indiana Jones (with handcuffs, not whips). There’s something about wearing a menswear-look that works magic in boosting confidence – maybe it’s the comfort factor, or feeling as though you don’t need to impress anyone… I don’t know, but it felt good nevertheless. Well now I have this strong urge to throw out my flimsy feminine pieces and start stocking up on starched shirts and tailored trousers. When I start visiting grooming stores, that’s when you hit that PARK & HALT button, OK?

Please do checkity out the ASOS feature; thank you Kit for helping with the photos!