Tag Archives: Streetstyle

Minutiae

The devil is said to reside in detail.

I certainly can’t speak for him – sinner, though I may be – but have always preferred to think that beauty, not ‘ol Beelzebub, is to be found within the sartorial minutiae.

|Street fsn, Stockholm Streetstyle|

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Amuse Bouche

Let’s start with an apology, shall we?

Sporadic posting is becoming my trademark and, for that, I am very sorry.  I could boast that such neglect results from a hedonistic three-week ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’ birthday celebration, but all would be lies.

The truth, altogether less glamorously, is that the nine-to-five has been kicking my ass.  A long day spent reading, and editing, the words of others is one which leaves few of my own.

Quite apart from fatigue – and being worked to the bone for pittance –  there is the troubling matter of hypocrisy.  How can a fashion blog be authored by one who has forgotten to dress?

Despite being a ‘Winter Girl’ – who drifts, like a moth to the ever seductive flame, to lust over winter coats on Net-a-Porter during the inferno of summer – I still find this season the most challenging. 

Rain?  I take puddles in my stride.  Wind?  I’m firing on all pistons albeit with bad hair.  But snow? 

Down comes the white stuff and my sartorial wits freeze.

It is times such as these that streetstyle blogs – Vanessa Jackman, Hanneli, Stockholm Streetstyle and Mr Newton, to name but four – inspire me to wear something other than Long Johns, Hunter wellingtons and an electric blanket.

Curative to a bad case of ‘Style Boondocks’ as Lemsip is to flu, I plan to slavishly emulate their offerings – like the copiest of all copycats – and be returned to fashion and blogging toot sweet.

So there we have it.

An amuse bouche of a blog post. A tastebud tickle of adjectives until time, and workload, permit more. And more there will be…

Even if it does require handing in my resignation at the office!

|Stockholm Streetstyle|

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Back to School

They say the wanderer returns.   And they’d be right.

Unlike the many millions of children returned to school last month – with leaden feet and poet sighs – I make my homecoming altogether more gladly.*

What of my travels? 

For those fortunate to call San Francisco home – or simply those who have clung onto the side of a cable car the morning after cocktails at Rye and Bourbon & Branch – it will be little wonder that I have fallen quite hopelessly in love with your eccentric, hipster city.  Let’s whisper this, but it may even have replaced New York in my affections.

More, Napoleon suggested – in a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity – that we take a week in Paris.  This explains my somewhat later-than-promised return to blogging, but – after dating the same man for longer than even she believes – a girl has to seize every opportunity for romance and shopping on Avenue Montaigne.

Especially when it means giving a two-finger salute to the nine-to-five for another week.

The normal service of life will always recommence, however, and this first post finds dedication to my favourite class of wanderer. 

The Fashion Editor. 

Traversing the four capitals of the fashion globe, the nomadic and heavily caffeinated editrix provides a sartorial masterclass better than any of those evidenced on the catwalk. Without tire. Without faux pas. And she does it all in knife-edge heels.

Truly the kind of wanderer, then, that mere amateurs like me aspire to be.

{ *Even though London seems not to have received the memo that camel is the colour of the season and has impatiently, precociously fast-forwarded into the oppressive grey of winter.}

|The Fashion Spot, Tommy Ton for Style.com|

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