Dress – Exhibit. Top – JHZane. Bag – Valentino via Farfetch. Boots – H&M x Margiela

There is a crisp, fresh quality to the air, and the fume of Pumpkin Spiced Latte is lingering within the tube network. Heck, London, I was only gone for about a week. To make matters worse, I’ve had to ditch my only pair of socks in a trashcan in SoHo because it was still balls-degrees in New York and they wouldn’t fit in my vintage Chanel bum-bag. Hence, sock-less in 5°c Heathrow. Trick or tootsies, anyone?

It’s the season of holidays and clumsily thumbing through the Hallmark category boxes at the pound-shop. Happy ___ [insert from below: Halloween, All Saints day, Remembrance Sunday, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Boxing Day, Bank Holiday because-why-the-frick-not Day, New Year’s Eve…etc] The days in between don’t even matter. Alas, what does November 16th mean to you? It’s like when all the funny bits are in a movie trailer, so you don’t bother watching the actual movie.

Well, if you know me enough by now you’ll know, that this is the day I declare a holiday from holidays – a very happy un-holiday, if you will – a celebration of the smaller days. Buy that gingerbread house now, knock on someone’s door tomorrow and ask for treats, and buy that Valentino bag I’ve been waiting forever from Farfetch, gift-wrap it and write a ‘Hey sexy. From Me’ card with some Easter bunnies on the cover. #SmallDaysMatter

Polo-neck – Uniqlo. Jeans – Zara. Sleeves – JH Zane. Bag – Valentino.

Ming is a firecracker. The Tuscan sun sets her off in a way that everyone on set wants either to be her or pinch her cheeks until marshmallows are dispensed. Cutest thing on mile-long legs. Case in point: the night we arrive, she disappears from the taxi queue and our crew of ten (plus respective luggage and then some) goes on missing-Victoria’s-Secret-model alert. Turns out she was buying cookies for everyone. See what I mean.

Nicole is a resolute goddess of her own right, like the unwavering Italian sun. Everything and nothing reminds me of our brunch of 2012 at the Breakfast Club in Hoxton, still a time when I was pretty much wearing picnic blankets and guzzling lattes like there was no tomorrow/scales. Nicole is the same Nicole: smiley, generous and patient; except now she reigns the intranets. And boy does she love a Boomerang.

Shoot gear and one extra shot of espresso to kick-start a long hurdle.

Two horses appeared out of nowhere. Because Tuscany.

Trousers – Zara. Boots – Gigi for Stuart Weitzman

Is this a trick question? I’m being serious PLEASE HELP. It seems I’ve managed to change lanes while swapping out the Alanis Morissette CD and now there are new kids in town, going very fast, and I don’t know their names. It was either Gigi or, YOLO or something like that.

Fine, I have received enough verbal pamphlets from my more clued-in chums over samosas and beers to have vaguely mapped out the sort of rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock thing involving a family called the Kardashians, and Gigi is a supermodel/mastermind footwear craftsman somewhere in that equation. Am I getting this correctly? I have – kid you not – walked, run, driven, hiked… and practically swum in these Stuart Weitzman Gigi boots, without a single blister. So, logic tells me, that Gigi is not just a pretty face. I realise this is like when my mother saw my first boyfriend’s array of chains running from his wallet to a hook on his low-slung jeans and asked him if his family sold hardware. Jumping to conclusions is my favourite session at the gym. Also, hereditary.

Sweatshirt – Zara. White eyeliner – Dolce & Gabbana

Cashmere polo – JWon . Reversible bomber – Kenzo x H&M. Skirt – Paul & Joe. Boots – Gigi for Stuart Weitzman

The reality is, these are ass-kicking boots. For instance, I kicked 984km (611mi) ass of road the other week in these very pair, trekked on my very first snow atop an Alpine lay-by, and proceeded to drive through three different countries (more on this later). From the looks of it, I could’ve run for president too, given some (read: one) of the candidates basically resemble a deflated whoopee cushion. Remember to vote, kids.

They also come with a cause: Stuart Weitzman has pledged to build three schools in Ghana, Guatemala, and Laos with the charity Pencils of Promise. Ass. Kicked.

Knit – Stella McCartney (similar). Leggings – Zara. Boots – Gigi for Stuart Weitzman. Top – Ivy Park.

creative direction SHINI PARK photography assistance SIMON SCHMIDT in collaboration with ROGER & GALLET

Coat – Toni Maticevski

I am a negligent father-figure when it comes to my skin on this blog. I can finally admit that. Ten months ago I promised to take you on an adventure, teach you how to make fire, and finally tell you how I KO’d Eczema. I know that I came to you, time and time again, saying Heeeey buddy, something came up. The truth is, I didn’t really bust Eczema, we’re still scratching at eachother.

The problem is, that I don’t have a skincare ritual to speak of. It’s hard when your canvas changes every other week – sometimes it’s suspiciously glossy, moist skin, sometimes it’s like sandpaper. Have you ever applying foundation on sandpaper? It’s like applying Nutella on a section of the beach. No joke.

What helps for me is deep breaths*, sun, and water. And at the fear of sounding like a dirty hippie, I also like to curse like a sailor at a patch of dry skin when I think no one is watching. (If I hurt its feelings, maybe it’ll pack up and leave one day is my logic there) A good sweat regularly and layering skincare are best.

This brings us to my current beauty obsession, the new four-step ritual by Roger & Gallet: Le Soin Aura Mirabilis. Based on a natural remedy created 300 years ago by the French monks, called Aqua Mirabilis, frequented by Emperors and empresses of the time, the range boasts a formula comprised of 18 distilled plants.

Here are the four simple steps, just layer like you always would. And tell me I won some daddy brownie points, for the time being, at least.

**You’d be surprised at how ten deep breaths can change EVERYTHING. More on this later.

Dress – Toni Maticevski. Basket – Chloe

While this story is in collaboration with Roger & Gallet, all products have been personally tested and tried before the partnership for the sake of integrity. I still use the proudcts every day!

I had one pair of leather trousers as a teenager. Contraband, of course. (And as genuine leather as your mum’s cast-iron skillet.) A true tiger-mother presumably would never condone her spawn to be exposed to any a lifestyle that might hint at the need of 1) weather-proof garb for helmetless fast-driving, 2) electric guitar(s), and 3) 1978 John Travolta. Tell me about it, stud. The noise it made when I walked in those trousers was not dissimilar to a packet of crisps dipped into car wax, and let’s say it was permeable as, well, your mum’s cast-iron skillet.

The secret to this item of rebellion was however, not the prospect of future-killing, homework-undoing and tramp-a-making. It was simply a teenage ploy for attention, because the first thing my mother would say is: How the damn do you wash these trousers? And you’d revel at the image of your very mother dabbing at your cheap (plastic) leather with anti-bacterial wipes in the name of laundry. REBELLION.

Because let’s be honest, good leather is like performance arts. It plants balls in your hipster panties, and gives moves like Jagger. Good leather like Calvin Klein Jeans’ Rebel Edge capsule collection, in which walking sounds nothing like squeaky crisps, but a Toyota Prius. (That shit be silent, and buttery.) This rebellion is against your goody-two-shoes self – Eat dessert first, write your to-do list on a banana peel; stand on the left, walk on the right, get yelled at, yell back. See? Good leather is a keeper.

Calvin Klein Jeans Rebel Edge capsule, available at the Regent Street store and MyTheresa.com

Jacket – Calvin Klein Jeans Rebel Edge capsule. Trousers & hoodie – Calvin Klein Jeans. Boots – Acne Studios

All – Calvin Klein Jeans Rebel Edge capsule