Coat – Boden. Sweater – Eileen Fisher. Necklace – Louis Vuitton. Bag – Coach. Trousers – Filippa K

Passport holder – Louis Vuitton. Bag – Coach. Heels – Kurt Geiger.

And just like that, the fashion month circuit is closed. The lions are cajoled back into their cages and the tents packed down into wagons; one by one, the throng dissipate into a Euro tunnel or Charles de Gaulle terminal after another, and all that’s left of the festival is a dusty, patchy field and a village-worth of Airbnb’s that need a-cleaning. The days are a touch cooler, and shorter, than when it all started. I had joined the last leg in Paris on the final three days for the two shows that I always catch, and finished the season adequately rested, sufficiently surprised and inspiration fully fueled. I can’t wait to start sharing everything I’ve worked on soon with you all. For now, the Boden coat in siren-red (a bit of Benjamin Button with the content, as usual), on my way home from Paris… attracting all manners of attention including three separate accounts of ‘you want taxi?’ men, two ‘petition for the deaf’ scammers who seemed incredibly not-deaf, and of course, the good old-fashioned drunk men demanding beer (or wine?) change.

Note to self, do not dress like gullible tourist lady with Robin Hood disposition to Gare du Nord.

this is a photo Diary(ish) of a twenty-something year-old taking on seven days in new york city for fashion week, one hot minute a time. watch as she steps into a puddle of trash juice and denies the whole thing happened, then does a marylin monroe over subway fart in front of a gaggle of construction workers. it’s ok, she is proud about it all.

I can never go back, can i.

Dress – 2nd DAY. Skirt – ASOS (similar). Hat & Bag – Kurt Geiger. Watch – Larsson & Jennings. Bracelet – X Jewellery.

As usual, the effect of New York to this European-to-the-core is that of whiplash, whatever medal I mentally award myself for packing semi-appropriately for the weather (contrary to the numerous occasions in the past in which I had completely missed the memo about either blood-stopping cold or biohazard heat). The minute you get in that Uber at JFK, it’s Keep your hands in at all times, and better secure those sunglasses because they will fly off on the next loop. If a New York minute is to Johnny Carson, the interval between a Manhattan traffic light turning green and the guy behind you honking his horn, to me it’s that (ever so slightly dejecting) micro-moment when the tax gets added onto a bill. One minute you have the exact change, the next minute you’re splitting your $100 note and getting a Robin Hood sack of change in coins. My point is, seven days in New York is but a blink of an eye, and at the end of it all, you’re just in sheer amazement of how much you managed to take in such beautiful grandness, smelly, screaming awesomeness, in that split second of a minute. Well here’s me trying to explain in photos.

And of course, it’s just too bad a London Minute is essentially the customer ahead of me in the Royal Mail Post Office checkout line, which means I’m looking forward to being in New York again in about TWO BILLION YEARS.

Bag – Kurt Geiger

Dress – Coach. Culottes – Finders Keepers. Bag – Coach. Boots – Kurt Geiger. Watch – Larsson & Jennings. Bracelet – X Jewellery.

Shoes – Kurt Geiger. Trousers – Filippa K. Top – Carven.

Shirt – Boden. Skirt – Boden ICONS. Jeans – Marques’Almedia. Shoes – Coach. Bag – Louis Vuitton. Bracelet – X Jewellery. Watch – Larsson & Jennings.

Scarf – Nazanin Rose Matin

It’s difficult to write an account of an experience in the Maldives without an introductory flailing of the arms and a bit of gurgling, followed by something that’s spelt a little bit like this. It’s all very professional, really. In fact, the world should celebrate that I’m not on Youtube because it all looks and sounds like Tom Hanks in Cast Away with a bit of spirit fingers sprinkled in the mix. (I am on Snapchat however, making the same noises at brownies and puppies on Broadway Market: Sparkncube) Even re-living the Maldives through these photos puts me on a high.

As mentioned in Part 1, the main attraction at Conrad Maldives – once you’ve gotten over (warning: this may take forever) the milky-white beach, azure skies and the most translucent water since bottled Fiji – is the sense of privacy and isolation. I’d fully embraced this inside my Water villa (with thumping rap music on the first night), with a tinge of suspicion that perhaps it was to be expected given the nature of architecture, but was promptly proven otherwise as we moved into a Deluxe Beach villa two nights later. In theory, your neighbours are close by, but the minute the gates click shut, you feel like a homeowner. And it’s a big home – larger in fact, than most of my previous London flats, and I don’t recall ever having an outdoors bath-pavilion (unless you count the one where water leaked from the ceiling). So there, yet another reason to move to the Indian Ocean.

Lingerie – Triangl. Serum – Estee Lauder. Sandals – Pour la Victoire. Watch – Daniel Wellington. Sunnies – Westweard Leaning

Romper – ASOS. Necklace – EFFRA

Speaking of reasons to move, add these too – ten restaurants where one is 5m (16 ft) under water, and another inside a wine cellar; an extensive list of DVDs and snacks that can be ordered through room service for rainy afternoons after lunch; and a spa that is set on stilts with glass floors so that you can drift off counting the stripes of a family of clownfish (“three”) while your back gets some much-needed TLC. So yes, I would jump ship and go Tom Hanks for/at Conrad Maldives any day, as long as Wilson can pour me some bubbly at pink sunset, I’d be happily cast away for ever.

Park & Cube was a guest of Conrad Maldives, all views and opinions are my own. Shots of me with the help of Mr Tripod.

Caudalie Beauty Elixir. Sabon Body Lotion. Estee Lauder Advanced Night Repair Cream. Skyn Eye cooling gel. Kiehls Avocado Eye cream. Pai Avocado & Jojoba Day cream

Watch – Daniel Wellington. Ring – Elizabeth & James

The over-water spa

Suede leather jacket – All Saints. Jeans – Levi’s 501. Heels – Malone Souliers. Rings – Monica Vinader

Behind scenes & interview, click to watch

McArthurGlen Denim Icons campaign, shot by photographer Nick Haddow

Chuffed – That’s probably not the most sophisticated word I could’ve dished out and certainly not a word that describes the amazing opportunity that’s being photographed by Nick Haddow, but that’s the word I’ll stand by when it comes to this McArthurGlen global campaign that I can finally share with you today.

I would never label myself an icon or a model (model what – model citizen? I pick up after my neighbour’s puppy, if that’s what they mean) of any sort, I was invited to be one of McArthurGlen’s Denim Icons, which at first I hesitated to accept. But the hero of the campaign was to be Denim, and the iconic versatility of it – so I accepted. Figured I owed a lifetime worth of uniform anyway – skinny, ripped, bleached or cut-off at any given junction in life…. and if it meant a few hours with Nick, then heck, let’s call meself an Icon. McArthurGlen Outlets so happen to have ridiculous discounts on designer/high-street denim too so happy to front that intelligent shopping game at the same time.

In collaboration with McArthurGlen; thoughts and opinions are my own as usual.