Coat – H&M. Skirt – Next (Similar). Boots – Zara. Bag – Kurt Geiger (Similar). Turtleneck – American Apparel.

Clocking up nearly eight years in this city and having seen the fantastic variety of elements the sky had for offer (and spewed down regardless of preference) across any given season, the only way I’ve found – so far – to tell apart the damn seasons, was the flower market on Columbia Road. Granted, it’s still a pretty shoddy technique, because I’ve seen snow on sunflower petals, rainwater dousing a perfectly fine barbeque… and so on, but it seems to estimate better than anything else. Anything else, namely, being the date we’ve nominated ‘the official first day of Spring’, which I find basically as credible as me declaring: ‘From now on, I will blog diligently’. It’s Christmas-degrees on the ‘first day of Spring’; 2-week blog hiatus because of jetlag… = same unreliable shebang. At the flower market however, the tell-tale signs are in the flowers: the species, colours and sizes. While I won’t dare to boast I know my flowers, the familiar superstars coincide with the season’s traits: Daffodils, daisies and tulips quickly ensued by the sweetness Springtime; Sunflowers and Dahlias with balmy weathers of Summer… and so on. After a couple of weeks of indecisive selection of evergreens and rust-coloured hydrangeas, last week the market was suddenly flooded with yellow Billy balls and multicoloured tulips, so I picked up a bunch in the name of finally teasing the sun out from behind the clouds… now let’s wait and see if the theory sticks, shall we?

And speaking of Spring…

Looking forward to going back on this potion that always takes me back to NY. Which reminds me, the Marc Jacobs Daisy pop-up store over NYFW was apparently a wild success. As I’d imagined, the #MJDaisyChain hashtag currency overpowered the $$, an innovative social media twist that really made this campaign all the more special. Like I said before, I’d have happily tweeted my tails off for a top-up of Daisy or a piece of Langley Fox Hemingway’s Daisy-themed artwork… or a Marc Jacobs Wellington bag (DAMN). Click on the arrows to navigate the slideshow! In collaboration with Marc Jacobs Daisy (conclusion).

Heels – All Saints

Heels – All Saints. Coat – Club Monaco. Breton top – Uniqlo mens, stolen from hubby. Leather trousers – Hoss Intropia. Bag – Couronne. Scarf – Johnstons of Elgin. Straw basket – Chloé

Some people run marathons, I go to the flower market. By bus. I know I’ve featured it on this blog enough times to make it seem it’s a weekend ritual, but hey this is captain of Lazy club we’re talking about here – I get medals for doing the laundry. Marzipan medals if I hang them the same day. Sometimes the hubby smears BB-cream on my cheeks like battle-paint so I can get things done outside the house during the weekend, flower market included. On some days he accompanies me and we attach a rope between our bikes so he can pull me down the road. It really is just a quick cycle away, and whenever I do manage to make it down I ask myself why I don’t visit every weekend because I fall in love each time. The seasonal flowers and their cheerful sellers, the occasional puppy weaving between the happy crowd, the pastry reward at the end of the market… what’s not to love! Some pansies were starting to make an appearance, as well as some really stunning lilies. But since I’m still pretty much a n0oB when it comes to flower species, I brought home a bunch of hydrangeas and a fistful of eucalypti. Although, not sure what I can do with them really, maybe I’ll make soup of it.

Hope you had an exciting weekend, what did you get up to?

Oh, speaking of weekends, if you’re into taking pics of your feet on Instagram, this is one quick and easy competition you could take part in for a chance to travel to London with All Saints. I need someone to pull my bike to the market again, actually, if you want.

Shirt, Blood is the New Black. DIY cropped denim, Zara. Shoes, Isabel Marant Beketts. Sunnies, Jeepers Peepers (similar)

Now that the larger part of the Olympics is over and the sun doing its job properly for once this summer, none of us (i.e England) seem to really know what to complain about. We’re shuffling around the water cooler and downing one too many plastic cups of company water, making small talk over the new carpet and the receptionist’s new clogs. Welcome to CompLane & Co, we were having a fantastic year until the weather cleared up and by some miracle the tourists learnt to stand on the right (edit: of tube escalators). So I am now complaining about wind knocking down a stinky flower vase, which in all honestly was actually quite a lovely gust of wind laced with sweet summer grass that broke the sweltering heat, and the flowers – despite having lost all its petals in transit and having pooped in the vase – was actually a rare luxury in our lifeless flat. I’d love to think these little cycle trips down to Columbia Road flower market is turning into a weekly practice that makes me more of a woman (on paper, at least)… but let me hang up my bra and tell you this, once this sun packs up and goes away to Ibiza (or wherever it retreats usually), I will resume the position Captain-CEO of the unstoppable force that is CompLane & Co, reigning in the confines of my own pizzacrust-lined dungeon. I WILL BE BACK.

Columbia Road Flower Market

Foldable Liberty-print tote by Catherine Memre

Wearing: Shirt, Libery London. Jeans, Levi’s. Shoes, Friis & Company (similar). Sunglasses, Jeepers Peepers. Straw bag, Chloé; Thank you Kit for the shots!

I don’t know what’s worse, not having a TV or relying on Twitter/Google for current issues, because for a few weeks now I’ve been holed up in my flat eating peanuts out of party size bags (hubby is a compulsive hoarder) and collecting rainwater because apparently there’s a zombie mob out there choking the streets and running down innocent Londoners just trying to get on with life. At least that’s what I made out of all the ‘keep out of London’ tweets by the metropolitan police. Apparently the Olympics is on too. Yesterday I managed to sneak away to my happy place that is Columbia road flower market, one of the many bulletpoints on the Sunday to-do list that gets neglected, the other neglected task being ‘water the plants’ – not sure if this is ironic or logical. Peonies were still out so I happily bagged six bunches while Kit scored an armful of hydrangeas for £5, then we had donuts and coffee while observing an unfriendly pomeranian go nuts over crumbs. What a happy Sunday, and not a zombie in sight, Twitter you liar.

Scarf – Scottish Highland wool shop in Holborn, Coat – Quicksilver

Columbia Road Flower Market, London, E2 7RG

You can leave it to me to kill already-dead herbs, but the flower market probably is one of my favourite places in London. But I’m probably not one of a tulip’s favourite things, obviously. It’s just 15 minutes away with the bicycle from home but every Sunday morning I find myself busy bullet-pointing reasons in my head why it’s better inside the duvet than out, then it gets to point no. 7 and it’s about 5pm and time to go to church. But whenever I do make it down, I ask myself why I’m not there every single weekend. Granted, the current season’s flowers look more like cabbages (or was that pre-brunch hunger talking) but it’s the puppies, the girls in khaki fedoras and red lipstick, the famous cappuccino from Lily Vanilli with a sprinkle of chocolate powder that make it so good. Funny thing is, I’ve never yet had a chance to buy any flowers (still looking for that perfect vase…) but it really is one of my favourite places to give up a sleepy Sunday morning for.