Jacket, Dress, Bag – Coach SS16.

Had I known micro-trips is to be the running theme of January, I’d have at least nabbed some tiny stocking-filler toothbrush & toothpaste sets and kept some advent calendar chocolate aside over the holidays. The thing about these overnight stints is that it puts you in somewhat of grey area of ‘purposelessness’, because you decide it is too short of a trip to take your usual ‘purposefulness’ kit which helps you be productive, if not be entertained. So you end up sitting in that window-seat like a potato, thinking of potato things.

One thing I did notice: shorter the trips, smaller the carry-on handbag. Passports come out their elaborate, monogrammed, multi-pocketed travel wallets and into a coat pocket; same with ticket stubs and any other paperly goods – dog-eared and unidentifiable by the tenth time Ryanair checks that you are indeed you. Cue the Saddle Bag, key player for Coach Spring16 collection and a nod to the classic design from the archives, just in time for the brand’s 75th anniversary. The smaller size (Saddle 23 – £325) got me through a 22h stint in Florence just last week: big enough to scrunch in a silk blouse I scored at a vintage shop off the beaten track, and perfectly concise enough to enjoy a brief-but-glorious moment in the Italian sun.

In collaboration with Coach as the season’s digital ambassador.

Blazer – Acne. Trousers – Rodebjer. Bag – Coach Saddlebag.

All items Coach. Scarf – Acne ‘Canada’.

Black Vase – West Elm.

What I’m doing in this flat is quite possibly in violation of some renters’ law: the comprehensive yet unspoken/unwritten set of rules that is policed by no one but adhered to by everyone who is under a tenancy agreement of sorts. You homeowners can go outside and play, this post does not apply to you… superior humans.
Picture frames all aligned at the same base-line (the floor), make-shift storage space under the stairs/behind the IKEA EKBY, free-standing clothes-hangers that buckle under sale purchases… yeah, you know exactly what I’m talking about. We do not invest in big furniture, and when we do it’s made of cardboard (or breadcrumbs?), comes flat-packed and you probably transported it home in a bus yourself. Built-in storage is literally my wet dream. Maybe not literally.

Also, what is a drill, pray tell?

If it helps to further understand, these laws are accompanied by an Amazon recommended-product list full of sticker-back wall hooks and cheap draught prevention kits BECAUSE YOUR LANDLADY DOESN’T BELIEVE IN CURTAINS, so you spend the balls-cold weekend sealing off the windows with a combination of bargain-store fabric and clear plastic, and hope for the best. Doesn’t hide the fact that now your overpriced London flat looks like a blanket fort that Troy & Abed would approve of.

Ladder-shelf – Dwell. Blowfish – Boulesse. Coral decorative object – West Elm.

Perfume – Dolce & Gabbana ‘The One’. Watch – Larsson & Jennings. Bracelets – CARAT* London

Glass vase – Muji. Hourglass – Bitossi via The Conran Shop. Candle holder – Trouva

So me taking a measuring tape to the walls, is in clear violation of the above. A MEASURING TAPE, you guys. Then proceeding to ordering furniture that perfectly slide into the little indent in the wall next to the fireplace. We’ve even bought a drill, and have plans of making fist-sized holes into the walls come weekend; you know, for fun. My logic is this: Live a little. Why pay such a ridiculous amount to live in a relatively attractive, albeit ill-heated space and then further offend it by not making it a home? Because stupid, that’s what. Rant over. Here are some corners I’ve been refreshing in the last couple of weeks between the bliss that was my horizontal-and-TV adventures.

Marble vase – Dwell. ‘Hello’ sign – West Elm.

Aroma diffuser – Muji

Chair – Eames. Desk – IKEA

Rose-gold sunnies – RayBan