I’ve missed two fads in a row. For that I can only apologise. The first time was self-inflicted illness, the second was illness-illness. Now, I’ve got no excuses. So here you are:
Right, so I’ll admit it: I’ve been spending too much on clothes lately. Call it a shopping fad, if you will. I just can’t help myself! Especially when it comes to American Apparel. I’m sure they see me coming, every time. I’m trying to counteract any purchases by selling on ebay, but the ratios definitely aren’t up to scratch yet. So I’m taking action with a self-imposed shopping-ban. Is such a thing likely to work? Meh. I can dream.
My New Bag.
When I was in London a couple of weeks ago, I accidentally stumbled across my latest must-have bag in Topshop (I wasn’t even looking for a bag – that’s just how these things roll sometimes). I was with my Mum and she kindly treated me to it. It’s basically an exact copy of the Celine doctor’s bag (and about as close to one of those as I’m ever going to get). I love it.
My New Coat.
So, as it happens, I completed the winter-coat challenge with relative ease this year. Went back to my indie roots and sorted myself out a parka. Only problem being that I opened the Guardian yesterday to find a full on article about my coat. Not just the coat itself casually strewn amongst other items, but the coat singled out and talked about all by itself. And there was I, wanting to keep it on the lowdown. TUT. Not going to perpetuate the problem by revealing the coat here. Instead, a picture by association.
Now, I’m not usually one to get excited about this sort of thing until the twelfth month rolls around, but since time is evaporating on me these days, I know it will be here before we know it. It is for this reason that I felt my first Christmas pang yesterday. Helped by the fact that the John Lewis Christmas catalogue came with the paper. Oh yes, I had myself a little nose at that. Have concluded that this year I need some Christmas paraphernalia. You know, like a Christmas pudding bin bag or something along those lines.
Mad about the boy.
This week will mark our fifth anniversary. Who’d’ve thought it, eh? Well, everyone probably. We’re not going to do much (because I’ve spent all my money on clothes and he’s spent all of his on unfathomable computer parts) but we’ll probably eat some fancy food together at some point. So to mark this occasion: a song. I’d never be so cringeworthy as to say it’s our song. But. Well. It kind of is.