Dirt

Some wall art that requires a little purchaser participation before it can be fully realized...bit genius, I think.



(roland tiangco via all the pretty mountains)

Wanted.

I'm currently on a spending embargo after having a particularly frightening discussion with my mother about post-graduation realities. But that doesn't mean I can't covet, right? So it's a little unhealthy to be constantly eyeing and wanting, and yes, I am perfectly happy with all I have. As mumsy always says,"Want what you have, and you will always have what you want."

Bah. I say sometimes it's fun to want what you can't have...

Something like these:Or those...
If you too have the want or the need but unlike me can procure, then please do so right here at one of my favorite independent online boutiques.

Peering In

(more!)

Soft, muted colours, slouchy, diaphanous clothing and a little flash of nip... Yep, it may be chilly outside, but Spring is in full swing in the magazine world.

David Bellemére always does a fantastic job creating hazy, dreamy editorials for Italian Marie Claire and this one is just another example of what he does best.

Colour Therapy

A burst of colour for another grey grey day. It was sunny on Sunday and it was perfect. Now it's back to dim skies and a foggy air.

While I don't really wear bright colours nor am I constantly doused in black, today I'm going to find and wear the most obnoxiously loud, brightly coloured item of clothing in my wardrobe to shake away the winter day blues.

(US Vogue editorial discovered here)

Inside & Out

I suppose I should be less of a curmudgeon and embrace the cold, both inside my flat and out. For lounging, I imagine cozy long knits, sweater upon sweater, and a Pendleton blanket to snuggle up in with a good book. For venturing out, it's best to wear appropriate shoes to ward off the cold and the slush, sheer blouses insulated by thick knits and a proper shearling coat (I was this close to convincing my mom to give me hers while home, guys - this close!). I hate gloves (they make me feel criminal) so fingerless will have to do, but with a good cuppa coffee to keep the tips warm. I can feel the flush of warmth in my cheeks as I type...

...

Six months until summer. Six months until jumping in the pool. Six months until jumping on the trampoline. Six and a half months until I can hold my very own sparkler.
(via)

There are times when I like winter. I like getting bundled up, layer upon layer, I like drinking hot chocolate and staying in, watching movies all night long because it's too cold to do anything else. But I also hate winter. I hate the wet, and I hate the cold. I hate having frozen toes as I walk to the tube. I hate then getting on the tube and sweating from too many layers. But most importantly I hate how winter can make me long for summer, make me wish time would speed up, because really everything goes too fast nowadays. One of my new year resolutions every year is to stop thinking about the future, live in the present and all that fortune cookie stuff. But oh how the weather makes it rather difficult. I'm forced to remind myself...

Whether the weather be fine,
Or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather,
Whether we like it or not.

He Said It

So you want to be writer?
Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Late Night Habitual

When I can't sleep, sometimes I read, sometimes I watch a movie, but a lot of the time I wander around the internet. Sitting in the dark in my living room, under the harsh glare of the screen, and squinting my eyes in the light, I go from link to link. Sometimes these bouts of sleeplessness result in unwise decisions, like a rather unfortunate hat. Other times, it results in delightful finds. Tonight is such a night, and I can go to bed secure in the happy thought that this slim photobook by Jeff Luker shall be reaching me soon.

happiness is a warm gun

In six months, as I've mentioned, I finish my law degree. It has been a grueling, trying, ridiculous experience -- especially because halfway through my first semester of my first year, I knew that law wasn't for me. Why did I stay? I don't know. Dropping out seemed so ridiculous. And I actually like learning about the law, I find (some) of it academically and intellectually interesting, but it's not what I want to be. So now I find myself in the position of almost having an LLB, but with no interest in putting it to good use. I puzzle my parents and relatives with my choice, and I question why I didn't quit sooner, but it's too late for that now. Going to law school meant I got to move to London, live in an incredible place and have incredible experiences. I got to postpone 'being grown-up' for three more years.

But what's next?

I don't know, but I do know that upon graduation, the above Digby and Iona locket is the perfect commemoration of a strange three years.

It's Cold...

so cold that my flight back to London was canceled. C'est la effin' vie.

D is for Dree

A little 'D' in the hollow (crook?) of the neck. One of the prettiest parts of the body adorned with the most delicate initial charm. Just another thing Dree Hemingway has that I kinda want. Dammit.

(photo via jak&jil)

An Approximation

I've had bag lust ever since seeing these Chloé crocodile bags on the runway and photographed by Tommy Ton outside the show way back when...So when I happened upon this little fella in a vintage shop in East London, despite the fact that I was there for a haircut and was supposed to be spending money on that, it reminded me too much of those beauts not to buy. And at 15 quid, it's not like I was breaking the bank. Course it's not croc, and it's not Chloé, but this little simulacrum is my new best friend.

Makes me feel all fuzzy inside

(via jak & jil)

The right shape, the right knit, the right colour. Dries Van Noten may have made the perfect fuzzy sweater.