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

Shoes – Bally.

To don a watch is to wear a miniature black-hole at your left, or right, sleeve – a cleverly disguised little weapon that brings a micro-second of chaos as the wearer, after having so deliberately employed her wrist and peeled back the sleeve of her Equipment blouse, DOES NOT REALLY REMEMBER THE TIME, and checks it again. My relationship with my watch is as such – made up of singular moments amidst a flurry of activity, as our faces mirror eachother’s, and our eyes meet, just as you would with your best friend in a house party of sorts, that micro-second that says nothing but tells everything. And perhaps the real purpose of consulting your watch for the time is not for the very data itself, but a nod to the smaller moments that go undetected.

The second hand glides around the jet-black lake of the Larsson & Jennings The Automatic, newest series to the family and an upgrade to the cult models that has been dominating the instaworlds on wrists of taste-conscious millennials. The watch is silent but packs a punch – even its refined, golden arms dance with intent, even in the smaller moments I’ve decided to photograph for this story.

Top & Skirt – Rejina Pyo

Blazer – 2ND DAY. Watch – Larsson & Jennings ‘The Automatic’

Top & Skirt – Rejina Pyo

The Automatic is the older sister I never had. The one that has a degree in political science, looks flawless at all times (#Iwokeuplikethis), and yet knows how to rock a tune at the family Christmas gathering. We found this amazing flat on Airbnb, and spent one day idling in corners where the soft winter light trickled through the blinds; occasionally looking at the Automatic, but never registering the time.

Exclusive to the series is also the deployment clasp, Swiss AR-coated crystal sapphire glass and the date calendar functionality of a 21 jewel ETA 2892.A2 mechanical movement. Available directly from Larsson & Jennings stores and a small number of selected partners.

Coat – 2ND DAY

Top – Paule Ka. Skirt – Filippa K. Watch – Larsson & Jennings ‘The Automatic’

Top – Paule Ka. Skirt – Filippa K. Shoes – Siegerson Morrison. Watch – Larsson & Jennings ‘The Automatic’

Watch – Larsson & Jennings ‘The Automatic’

Place Charles de Gaulle: the deathtrap of a roundabout in central Paris where twelve straight avenues cross intersect in a star-formation – a place where I have sworn I will eventually die no matter what mode of transport I’m in/how veteran of a driver may be commanding the wheel/handlebar – is possibly the best I can do to explain Fashion Month to those outside the industry. It’s that noise, the lack of traffic lanes of any sort, the uncomfortable closeness to fellow comrades marching around the roundabout, and having to manoeuvre through the full circuit without crashing into, say, a scooter, or a blithe pedestrian (most possibly a tourist – even in the metaphor) (how many a German tour group experienced a Lion King-esque streetstyle photographer stampede towards Kendall, I do wonder) trying to jay-walk his way across to the Arc de Triomphe and wreaking havoc to any conceived order in this chaos. That is Fashion Month, for me.

In this equation, London is a relative comfort zone only due to the fact that the bed is familiar and the husband is baffled IRL (instead of ‘Y U DO DIS’ goodnight messages on WhatsApp), but the chaos is as thick. Tickets are missing, Simon – my source of enthusiasm in all this – ever scrambling in pursuit of some order in chaos (an impossible feat), and of course, the new Soho venue is simply a ‘hilarity’. Between all that, the fresh, new collections are the only clear sound in the commotion, that and the Apartment – a sanctuary known to digital somebody’s in the same plight. It may hustle and bustle, but anywhere that’s stocked with burgers, nap-pods, emergency Kurt Geiger, and infinite charge-stations is a clear win in this roundabout of death. In fact it’s like taking residence in the Arc de Triomphe, which coincidentally is also one of the best vantage points of the city (Alice knows).

Here’s a scribble and a song, on the past season in London. More a scribble, because even after three weeks of supposed R&R my ears are still ringing of shell-shock. But I suppose that’s just me, getting closer to my 30’s and the bottomless barrel of excuses that come with. Call us a cab, BECAUSE I’M 30 AND WALKING IS DIFFICULT. Heck, I can’t wait to be 50.

GTG, husband’s just texted me a ‘Y U DO DIS’ from the other room.

09:10 Japanese Breakfast at Koya Bar

10:01 Soho traffic is actual comedy

10:16 Stripes = YAS. At J.JS.Lee

12:20 Picnic-chic at Mother of Pearl: Season’s Favourite

Wool-piqué top
Mother of Pearl

Twist Lock Bag
Louis Vuitton

Love Chords Bracelet
Park & Cube for X Jewellery

Platform Sandals
Kurt Geiger

Platform Sandals
Kurt Geiger

L Der Watch
Larsson & Jennings

Platform Heels
Kurt Geiger

Top – Zara. Skirt – Louis Vuitton. Trousers – Finders Keepers. Shoes – Kurt Geiger

Burberry SS16

Sunnies – Celine via SmartBuyGlasses. Watch – Larsson & Jennings. Envelope clutch – Sezane. Wallet – Prada. Serum – Innisfree. Necklace – Louis Vuitton. Scarf – MiH.

Top – Paule Ka. Culotes – Charlie May. Bag – Marni. Sunnies – Celine via SmartBuyGlasses.

Current location: Seoul, South Korea. Time-zone: Galaxy far far away, corner of Asgard and one stop before Uranus. My body does not comprehend the blue tint of dusk creeping through the blinds at the wee hours of the morning and sends out confusing bodily signals including but not limited to: hunger, a need-to-pee, PMS, utter exhaustion and insomnia (at the same time), and demands that I do something about it. In return, I do what I usually do when faced with jetlag: eat something questionable out of my Airbnb host’s fridge, entangle self within a duvet and find a TV shopping channel sufficiently entertaining enough to sap the last of energy. The effect is sublime – I arrived on Thursday and woke up on Monday morning ,feeling brand spankin’ new.

Problem is, I still don’t know what time it is. Imma go pee.

Hello, I’m here to fix your boiler…

I am a strong believer that when it comes to cities, especially of those ‘home’ variety for individuals who – like me – have confusing heritage, it’s all about spicing things up in the bedroom, so to speak. And for this I wholeheartedly recommend roleplaying: sexy nurse, keen repairman, bored prison guard… whatever floats your boat (enthusiastic Pokémon trainer for me), but the trick is to live, experience and interact with your city from a slightly different perspective, different lifestyle. Rent an inexpensive car for a few days instead of taking public transport, wear a suit every day for no reason, shop like a local, walk like a tourist, book an Airbnb flat in a high-rise and wake up to sunrise on the 20th floor… Enjoy wider horizons but also encounter new limitations. Yes I’m aware this sounds like a page out of a self-help book, but I promise, IT’S SEXY WHEN YOU’RE DOING IT RIGHT. I’d like to think that this is how London and I keep a healthy relationship, even if I have to ask for a hall pass every now and again.

Seoul, for me, is one of those ‘home’ cities – despite never having lived there and a place I still consider an exciting, unmapped territory, I can’t help that on the rare occasion I do visit I slink into an oddly familiar routine that one would typically expect from a local. Now, this isn’t to say that I know my way around the back streets of Gangnam or the best way to haggle over a kilo of spinach with the lady in the market (why does one need kilo of spinach anyway), but it is the inevitable nature of: I seem to blend in with my own people? Last April, brought over by work, I was determined to spice it up – and instead of going straight to one of my relatives, booked two nights at the Conrad hotel on Yeuido island – the city’s business and banking district and also home to the most spectacular cherry blossom festival.

Bag – Celine. Shoes – Aquazzura ‘Christy’

Watch – Larsson & Jennings ‘Saxon’. Necklace – Effra London

The hotel, while stunning in design and efficient in service, is undeniably oriented towards business purposes, which is exactly what I’d wanted. I woke up early and mingled with the suited men at breakfast, read the cartoon page off the International New York Times with my glasses perched low on my nose, and abused the concierge app to book wake-up calls but snoozed through the morning. In the afternoon, I took walks through the cherry blossom festival and bought street food, which I smuggled back into my room. And on the last day, I took a friend and snuck into a local public school’s sports field and we spent the afternoon on the bleachers imagining life as a Korean high-schooler. It was love rekindled, and so far away from the Seoul that I got too easily accustomed to. Next time, I’m booking a helicopter ride and borrowing a dog. Now tell me that’s not some power couple’s therapy.

A big thank you to Conrad Seoul for the kind hospitality.

Sweater – Isabel Marant. Trunk bag – Marni. Denim culottes – Charlie May. Heels – Gianvito Rossi