So I’ve unintentionally taken a hiatus, and the reason behind that is probably that same as everyone else’s: holidays, catching up with the family and friends, New Year – and in my case, luckily enough, a new internship. I managed to start a little before Christmas, but being embroiled back into the 9-5 lifestyle has taken some adjustment (and early nights!).

That being said, a think a nearly month-long holiday from the blog did me some good, purely because I was able to do a lot of reflection upon my wee little platform now. Part of my new internship requires reading a lot of blogs (online PR, y’see?), and being able to take in a lot of people’s different styles and methods has really resonated with me.

So my new year’s resolution (though coming very late), is to be more honest. Not because I tell regular porky-pies IRL. I mean being more honest on this blog. After reading ones such as Penelope Trunk and Nakedjen and such, I realise that I basically, so far, I have half-assed this thing. Back when I was 13 or whatever and Bebo was first out I would write at least a post a day or even maybe two if I was feeling really loquacious. And perhaps that wasn’t the best, because I was a 13 year old girl with far too much spare time and emotion on her hands, so I stopped that. Locked up my writing good and tight because oversaturation ain’t pretty.

But you know what? I kind of miss that dumbass 13 year old girl. She kind of didn’t give a shit about who saw what, and I’ve come to realise that just because you grow up doesn’t mean you shut up. No, you should just refine all the stuff you have to say.

That’s what I mean about half-assing things. I screen my blog posts, and filter out stuff I thought too damning or uncool (and the swearing) but in reality I’m probably just not being true to myself.

Here’s some visuals to even this chunk of text out. Here’s my graduation photo/outfit:


Ignoring Papa Wong and Mama Wong in their finery, I really don’t like this photo. Okay, I like it because it’s graduation and that’s a cool moment, but take a look at the shoes. These are like nude wedges that I never wear in real life, and only succumbed to in a fit of panic about graduation.

These are the shoes I actually really wanted to wear because they grounded my outfit overall, but I chickened out of last minute because I thought they weren’t ‘formal’ enough:


And the result? I end up looking like some silly little 12 year old. A boring one, too.

You know what though? I’ve always been really crap at picking formalwear. This dress is a Topshop one that I bought in a sale and didn’t even bother getting tailored to fit correctly, and I hardly wear skater dresses anyway (and I now realise my anti-dress bent was because I need petite dresses. Because I’m stupid that way), but I wore the ill-fitting dress and the horrible nude shoes because I thought that was what was right. (The bob is a different matter, I was having a Rose Bryne moment without realising that cheekbones/contouring was a necessary configurement.)

So the moral of this story is that I will look back on this photo and not regret wearing the cool shoes.

No wait. Well, yes that’s true, but what I really mean is that from now on I’m going to be more honest, more true to myself, and wear more kick-ass shoes.

Here’s an awesome Stevie Wonder song to end it all with (also, Mulan rules):


IMG_2298Flared jeans, Topshop/crochet top, Topshop/coat, Topshop/hat (pictured below), Primark/Sandals, Primark/woolly socks, ‘vintage’ (Mama Wong bought them).

IMG_2306Oh god, #duckface.

You know what I mean when I say ‘Sunday outfit’ right? Sundays invoke those lazy days of late mornings, brunch (because breakfast is a late affair too), and most definitely casual dressing. I don’t want to be a loser and wax lyrical about jeans but damn these flares are soft like butter. I could sleep on them like a pillow; they feel like a baby blanket when you wear them. A denim swaddling, you could say.

I was also extra naughty and wore woolly socks (not those fashion ones) with sandals because my feet were cold. Cool cat that I am.

IMG_2316 ‘Crochet crop top’ sounds like a tongue twister if you say it fast enough.

IMG_2320 Patented dork face.

IMG_2326Hiding it. Justly so.



photo 4photo 2

Coat, Topshop/Jumper, H&M/Shorts, Primark/Shoes, Urban Outfitters.

I probably look like this about 40% of the time, with just a variation on what kind of shorts or jumper I’ll fish out that morning depending on the day. I also have a system where I step outside into the garden for like 2 seconds to try and gauge if a) I need a coat and then b) what is the flimsiest coat/jacket I can get away with. This is actually the thickest coat in my arsenal. Long gone are those days were I could just make it through winter with 2 cardigans… sob.

  photo 5

Mmm, crispy hair ends. Thank God I got a haircut.

pose 2

classic heart sign

photo 2photo 4

Pink jumper, vintage/Trousers, Topshop/Heels, vintage/Necklace, Topshop.

I’ve been a nightmare lately. A menace rather. I’ve been touting this pink jumper on my back wherever I’ve gone the last three days, and only the concept of personal hygiene has allowed me to reluctantly pry my grubby hands off of it. I want to wear it everywhere. To work, outside, at home, in bed… You know, for those days where taking off your cosy little knit to change into pyjamas seems inconceivable. (I have a cardigan as well that doubles as a dressing gown. Am I taking this too far?)

It’s getting bad enough to the point my boyfriend sighs when he sees me in it. And my brother raises that eyebrow and says, “Oh, that one again, huh?” I’m telling you. It’s a disease.

3photo 1 photo 3 


%d bloggers like this: