Originally made in Yorkshire, I now reside in Pimlico, London with my boyfriend – alas, not Johannes Heubl – and a fridge teeming with Amelia Rope rose chocolates.
The most basic need of survival – that of keeping my wardrobe stocked with Proenza Schouler, Reed Krakoff, and Isabel Marant – has me working in publishing by day and flirting with freelance writing by night.
A bazaar for all things fashion, this blog turns it’s haughty little nose away from anything without a price tag equivalent to a small house deposit. For, as Oscar Wilde once sagely dictated, anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.
The penny jar may run dry. Bankruptcy may beckon. Your bank manager will certainly disapprove of your being here.
But do send him mine and Oscar’s best regards…