Nailpolish – YSL La laque couture 1 (Pop Art)

The ‘I am so sleepy, so so sleepy’ face

Neoprene Jacket – H&M trend. Saddle bag – Warehouse. Contrast-sleeve jumper – Topshop. Quilted orange skirt – Topshop Boutique . Geometric print skirt – YesStyle. Cross-patterned shirt tied around waist – Topshop Unique. Shoes – H&M x MMM. Thank you Kit for helping with the shots!

After these photos were taken we went and had a big healthy breakfast. No, I’m just convinced the sun sets at 7AM in London, how about where you live? My guess is that a few weeks ago our beloved sun happened upon a self-help book from the bookstore discount bin and on reading it experienced a surge of self-worth and decided it really was working too hard. Then I’m sure later it bumped into an old friend at the laundromat and got into a deep conversation on the topic of what’s up, where a bit too much empathy from the friend – one lousy reaction to an awkward encounter – fed to the sun’s new-found seething for the world and its ungratefulness. And on its way home tripped on loose brick and dropped all the fresh laundry in a bus stop puddle, at which point it goes SCREW THIS I’M GOING TO SLEEP FOR 6 MONTHS. Occasionally it gets up and goes to the bathroom, which is when we have some light outside, for about 15 minutes.

But that’s just my guess.

Sexy brunch at Hotel Amour

A stroll in Montmartre

Travel buddy Kit

Military jacket – Zara. Cable-knit dress – Mango. Knee-high boots – Sergio Rossi. Leopard-print bag – Kurt Geiger

The morning after the Dior x Printemps Christmas windows launch I woke up under a tangle of clothes, magazines and bedsheet – everything about that evening was fast-paced and it wasn’t until wee hours in the morning we stumbled back in our hotel and crashed head-first into a corner of the bed. I’d fallen asleep in Kit‘s room to the dull rumbling sound of French TV, which occasionally switched channels whenever we’d turn in our sleep (that remote has seen intimacy like no other). In the morning we arose to a BBC World breakfast show, and felt ourselves right at home. I fetched water from the bathroom tap to make us coffee, while Kit fished out her outfit from the sheets. Rue des Martyrs was a ten-minute walk from the hotel, which is where we were to meet Alix for brunch at Hotel Amour. I felt first-love again with a bite of my eggs royale, and the heavenly cafe crème replaced the sachet coffee and I bounced into life. Fueled by amour, we braved one flight of stairs to Montmartre, then surrendered at the foot of the next, and explored laterally a neighbourhood of brightly-coloured ponies and doll houses.

I wonder what organ allows me to write corny things like this. Actually, I bet it’s my appendix, the sentimentalist that plays dead while I sit in my sarcastic panties in our freezing grey warehouse-flat in London.

Tower bridge, London

Black shearling jacket – Muubaa. Cashmere sweater – The White Company. Dress – ASOS. Black Jeans – James Jeans. Boots – Sergio Rossi via the Outnet. Bag – Alexander Wang Kirsten tote via the Outnet. Thank you Kit for helping with the shots!

I’m trying this new thing where I don’t make my outfit posts HappyMeal posts, because lately I’ve been sneaking in half-arsed outfit shots with some great eating experiences that really deserve full features of their own (eg 1 | 2 | 3 ). So when I say HappyMeal posts – introducing the cool eatery is the ‘toy’ bit, while my sartorial choices that accompany the post like an afterthought, the undersized, under-satisfactory kid meal. If you were in the kind of family where HappyMeal is currency of good behaviour, you’ll be familiar with the fact that once you get the toy out, you no longer care what goes in your mouth – a fry, a sawdust McNugget. As long as the toy keeps you entertained, your parents shovel the food in no problem. My point is, I’m now in a habit where I don’t post anything until I eat out somewhere cool, which is NEVER because I also happen to work full time and really would prefer eating pillow stuffing at home (preferably while sleeping). So here goes, back to basics, ‘punching-in’ my fashion blogger time-card, so to speak. Lots of me, from different angles, wearing stuff that’s probably not even fashionable to begin with. Oh but I love that shearling jacket from Muubaa.

Little sneak-peak of the Printemps x Dior Christmas windows!

And pile of meat for lunch before shopping, naturally.

Here she comes! I’m here Marion, kiss me.

Coat

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– Zara. Khaki silk shirt- Iris & Ink. Midi-skirt – ASOS. Heels – Christian Louboutin Corneille. Bag – Reiss Mira. Belt – LV via Vestiaire Collective; Outfit shots by Kit

I’m sorry if lately it’s just been Paris this and Paris that, but let’s be honest, you can’t really blame me, can you. Same way you can’t blame me for sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to eat Nutella out of the jar while burning up the refrigerator lightbulb, which is pretty much always. It’s universal magic, we all know that. And seeing that my life is spectacularly, extra, extra ordinary (mind the gap), a quick trip to Printemps in Paris with Kit for an early taste of Christmas should no doubt be considered, extraordinary. Especially when it includes sparkling windows and a whole world of Dior behind a sheet of glass. Glass of course, makes this magical world much easier to reach than 1) the thick wardrobe doors of Narnia, or 2) a brick column to Platform 9¾ – technically at least. Plus I bet that window smells like Miss Dior from the inside and actually full of Helium gas that’s leaked out from the balloons. Squeakiddy-squeak-squeak, sang the dolls.

Thank you Ykone & Printemps for having us! (See last year’s mini-Karl domination in Printemps x Chanel windows)

A slightly-too-early-to-function breakfast in the clouds

Leather jacket – Day Birger et Mikkelsen. Padded down-vest – Uniqlo. Silk top – Partimi via A Boy Named Sue. Wool dress – ASOS. Boots – ASOS. Bag – Kurt Geiger. Scarf – DIY Knitted snood. Body rope – Brook & Lyn.

Ohh I feel like one of those plastic baby dolls that have eyelids that close when you tilt horizontally, or a roly poly toy… anyhoo, the world is swinging. I’d always wondered what sorcery was behind the mechanism for the eyelids, but I’ve figured it out now. Them dolls too must’ve gotten up at stupid-o-clock to get on a bus full of 6am bobbing heads and cerealy morning breath, and cruised down along a rose-coloured sunrise to have breakfast on the 40th floor at Duck & Waffle. I must’ve still been asleep when ordering too, because I asked for breakfast tea instead of coffee, and ordered sourdough bread with Nutella and a bowl of fruit in yoghurt – all the things we have IN ABUNDANCE at home. Hubby went for a glorious full on English breakfast with a cup of americano – perfect choice, really – so I challenged him to find North out the window and I stole a strip of bacon or five.

Book an insane-o-clock breakfast at Duck & Waffle (open 24/7, believe it or not, but book in advance) when you’re next in town, or a dinner, but make sure you arrive around 5pm for drinks and see the best show as the sun sets and the city lights up. The view is spectacular, and the lift down (Floor 40 to 1 express) adds to the whole thrill. The price-point isn’t too bad too – £12 for hubby’s  full-on fuel on, and £7ish for my sleepyhead bird food, plus caffeine. It’s really an unbelievable way to start a murky-weather Monday, but now I’m going to bed and sleeping like a dead person.