Sweater – COS. Leather trousers – Topshop. Bag – Couronne. Watch – GUESS. Glasses – YesStyle. Star necklace – MyFlashTrash. Heels – Christian Louboutin. Thank you Niek for helping with the photos!

So, apparently a work-out bench is a very different thing than of a normal bench. For example, it is not possible to pass out on a work-out bench clutching a beer can and half-eaten kebab. I have tried this. A few weeks ago, just as our holiday in Sardinia was coming to a close, hubby and I happened to weigh ourselves on the hotel spa scale and both did a double take. We threw away the pizza crusts we smuggled into the pool, raced back to the room; he ordered a work-out bench off Amazon, I Googled female sumo-wrestler blogs, then ordered a yoga mat and some macaron-coloured dumbbells, finding none. We had a steak for dinner, telling each other it would be our last, and then the next day we had our ‘last ever’ steak again. That was weeks ago, and only this past weekend we managed to sit down and plan a exercise pattern, and put together the work-out bench that was already gathering dust. I spent three hours exercising my Polish swearwords volcabulary on 2kg (4.4lbs) weights, and hubby picked up from his pre-wedding fitness and pumped 25kgs (55lbs)… all the while grunting and advertising to our neighbours that we’re having a merry time as married couple. I don’t need no bikini body, but I’d really like my boyfriend jeans NOT to fit like skinny jeans. Losing 2kg I got as a Christmas gift + 3kg I brought home as souvenir from Italy would be a definite plus.

Bah, THE PAIN though! It feels like I’m turning into Pinocchio, and apparently I walk like Forrest Gump. Louboutins ain’t the shoes to wear for post-workout, that I know now.

Jumpsuit – Topshop. Heels – Zara. Rose-gold star necklace – MyFlashTrash. Sunglasses & Bag – c/o Couronne. Watch – Sekonda. Gold bangles – ASOS. Friendship Bracelet – DIY (similar here). Belt – Marni (via the Outnet); Ring – Michelle Oh; Thank you Charlie for helping with the photos.

Let this be my humble attempt at inquiring what ze heck is up with this weather by going into the boiler room with a wrench. Apparently, according to practice, the most appropriate attire to such assignment is either a boiler suit or a beer company t-shirt + paint-stained khakis combo, and since I’m off beer for, like, THE REST OF MY LIFE after spilling it all over my laptop the other day, I’m going with the jumpsuit option. It’s surprisingly comfortable! But I won’t speak for the poor man who missed his chance to overtake me in a narrow street and could not help but to witness the series of wedgie un-doing.  As for the weather, I’m really not too sure what’s wrong – my theory is that the thermostat plastic melted onto a permanent state of 32°C (90°F). The manuals were clear though, on claiming I am just one ungrateful bastard for complaining about this beautiful summer weather. I do apologize. Alas, I did do some good banging around with the wrench (The stud-embossed Couronne bag does a fantastic tool-bag make) and now there’s a thunderstorm outside, which means I may have either fixed it or broken it further. We shall see.

Forte Village Resort, Sardinia; Part 1

Suit – Agnona (via Donne Concept Store at Forte Village)

Suit – Agnona (via Donne Concept Store at Forte Village). Top – DAY Birger et Mikkelsen. Necklace – Noemi Klein. Sunglasses – Couronne.

Floppy straw hat – Claire’s. Straw bag – Chloe. Kaftan as dress – Tallulah & Hope

Floppy straw hat – Claire’s. Straw bag – Chloe. Kaftan as dress & Belt – Tallulah & Hope

Red striped top – Chinti & Parker. White culottes – ASOS. White heels – Zara. Clutch – JinYoo103684. Flower hairclip – H&M

Red striped top –Chinti & Parker.White culottes –ASOS. White heels – Zara. Clutch – JinYoo103684. Flower hairclip – H&M

I’m aware of the fact that I tend to overuse Disneyland as a basis of good, or in other words omg-pee-ze-pants-awesome – for example that cake shop down the road that offers infinite free samples is basically Disneyland to my eyes. However, when I say Forte Village is like Disneyland, its one thing that it is indeed omg-awesome, but technically it’s probably the easiest way to describe the concept of this Sardinian resort.
Once you enter the candy-cane barrier and the pastel-coloured gates smothered in Mediterranean flora, it’s similarly a whole other world inside; one that makes date, news, time irrelevant for the entire duration of your stay. There isn’t a stuffed-mouse posse to greet you, but will a parrot named Mario do? We find out later in the week that watching it fight with two other parrots is one of the best entertainment when slightly drunk. A golf-buggy transports you to a remote bungalow amidst thick vegetation that effectively hides the thousand other guests staying at the resort. Once you’ve unpacked, it’s up to you which ‘rides’ you want to go on – I personally abuse the spinning teacup, which involves my hubby spinning me underwater in the Mediterranean sea while he ingests fish of sorts while I have the time of my life forgetting I’m on the other half of my twenties. By lunchtime you hit the pizzeria to reclaim stolen calories, and depart with a cheesecake to eventually nap with, while the adults (hubby) catch up on a bit of rest themselves. See, I’m sure there was a very rich culture and lots to see in the island of Sardinia, but not once we felt the urge to leave Forte Village. In fact it’s exactly what we wanted in a holiday: being locked in a fortified playground with infinite icecream.

Thank you Forte Village Resort for the warm welcome. Stick around for part Two!

Afternoon tea at the Connaught Hotel

Bag – Couronne. Shoes – Zara.

Tropical-print cardigan – COS. Frill crepe bralet – Topshop. Pencil skirt – Next. Heels – Zara. Bag – Couronne. Bar necklace – Kirsten Goss Urban Edge.

“You look like an ambassador’s wife!”, Kit yelled as she found me sitting in a park bench waiting to go for tea at the Connaught. If I had spotted her first I’d have opened with “It’s my birthday, just today PLEASE lie about my how my new hair looks and tomorrow you can tell me I look like I need to pick up my two kids from football practice at 3pm”. Alas, I was immersed in trying to lure a squirrel with a crumb-looking stone and my new hair had curtained over my corner-eye – the first betrayal of many, I anticipate. So then we all went to tea, Honest Kit, an ambassador’s wife and her sidekick, the beautiful turquoise Couronne bag that looks like it could hold any political secrets. I guess today I had legitimate looks for the ‘Do you know who my husband is‘ or ‘I declare war on your café‘ card, if ever the need arose.The deal with the hair is, I’d gotten it permed and cut just over a month ago, but the style was so un-maintainable what with absolutely no blowdry skills whatsoever, I went back in for a shorter length where Mrs Jackie had thrown in a blow dry as well. So, realistically, this style will NEVER appear again on the blog unless I magically give birth to an intern who will just help blow dry at 7:55am before I leave the house at 8. I came home and told the hubby the story about my new title, and he just said “you just look like a ‘wife’ to me”. Well, thanks, you both.

By the way, and it feels wrong of me to push this to the side, but the Afternoon tea was heavenly. What a treat! The Connaught Hotel is no doubt one of my few favourite luxury 5-star hotels in London, and while I’ve been around during cocktail hours (and learning how to make a wicked Old-Fashioned with Editer), I hadn’t tried the afternoon tea at the Espalette. Well, no wonder as around 3-4pm everyday I’m hitting back alleys in search for the fifth and final caffeine fix of the day or a bag of Haribo to inhale. The scones are warm and soft – let that be your reason to go. Butter that scone, if you know what I mean.