Three ways I wear Nike LunarElite Sky Hi

Look 1: Lace dress – Zara. Sweatshirt – Nike. Shoes – Nike LunarElite Sky Hi. Clutch – Chanel. Sunglasses – Mango.

Look 2: Coat – Nanushka. Sweater – COS. Skirt – ASOS. Shoes – Nike LunarElite Sky Hi

Look 3: Cardigan & skirt – Peter Pilotto for Target (via Net-a-porter). Shoes – Nike LunarElite Sky Hi. Bag – JinYoo103684. Bag – Kurt Geiger. Turtleneck – Uniqlo. Puffer Vest – Gap.

I don’t know what it is about my late twenties but boy am I working up a collection of trainers, each bought with the same reasoning technique that accounts for the thirty bags of jumbo peanuts in our pantry: THIS MUST BE HANDY DURING THE APOCALYPSE. It’s odd because 1) I am a hamburger when it comes to exercise (i.e I do not put the ‘train’ in ‘trainer’), and 2) I held a crusade against flats all throughout my teenage years and stuffed tissues, not only in my bra, but in my trainers as well for the wedge effect. So I came across these Nike LunarElite Sky Hi‘s, I reasoned that yes I needed another pair of trainers because APOCALYPSE, but also revelled at the fact that it was my teenage crusade manifested (Waterbra? check), in perforated neoprene and all the essential lightweight, cushioning technology of a classic Nike running model. Plus, neon yellow because I’m biologically hazardous like that.

Coat – Mango. Trousers – Topshop. Shoes – Nike. Sweater – Zara. Bag – Chanel Resort ’14 (on loan, don’t be silly). Rings – Monica Vinader. Photos from help from Abi, thanks!

It’s borrowed, don’t ask. I’m flattered though, that anyone would assume I have enough speech & debate skills to convince my husband, to whom Tommy Hilfiger is couture and Tom Ford is the CEO of Ford – the car company – that spending three months’ rent on a bag (a transparent one at that) is reasonable. I can’t even convince him to shower when he’s Shrek-green. My usual tactic is throwing self down in the middle of the aisle/kitchen and crying hysterically but this only seems to work up to a certain price limit, it being £40 for sock yarn. Truth is, deep inside I don’t believe we (I say we, but I mean me) are not yet in a junction in life to warrant a brand spankin’ new Chanel boy bag. I’ve always seen luxury goods as sex: the right person, the right time. Admittedly, this blog did place me in a bit of a ho-bag tangent with some of the generous gifts, I still want to work towards a stage in life where I can afford a Chanel/Hermes/LV bag without disrupting priorities. So please forgive me if, for the time being, I can be a little cheeky and seize the opportunity when the press office allows me to borrow to ‘play with’. Play we did, generally by me wearing it under a big coat and treating it like a secret, walking around town like Aladdin stealing bread: sartorial equivalent to ‘bubble-wrap it and place in safe’.

Disclaimer – this is not a sponsored post, by any means, nor do I frequently borrow items from brands to feature in this blog. On rare occasion that I do borrow, it is enclosed so readers are fully aware.

And here are some of things up for grabs…

One box contains: a heap of (seven!) YSL beauty goodies for the festive season!

One sack contains: One classic-red YSL lipstick, to wear with a tartan hat that comes as a knit-yourself kit by Wool and the Gang (or I can knit it up for you!)

Wearing: Dress – ASOS. Bag – Kurt Geiger. Shoes – Mango. Coat – Zara. Watch – Sekonda. Necklace – Mikimoto

Woof, five years! Before I get all sentimental about what five years ago felt like for me in terms of how many more stairs I was able to climb without throwing up my lungs, let me just say, FIVE!? Come on, vaccinations, play dates, potty training… don’t you get some kind of medal for this? Oh I forgot, this bundle of joy of mine lives on the internet. Can we just pretend for the sake for things, that it’s a living, screaming, kicking, pooping child – because thanks to you, loyal readers + occasional swing by-ers + first time visitors, this kid is fat and very happy. And it’s his 5th birthday today. (Well, it was technically back sometime in November but I’m a shitty parent, remember) Thank you for feeding bacon through the cage, and thank you most of all, for your support for the past five years. I’m very lucky to have you all. Oh there goes the emotions, paypal me some tissues will ya.

I’ve prepared some gifts for you, and while I’m sad that I cannot gift each and every one of my readers, I will sure strive to create content that hopefully will educate/entertain/inspire you, even accidentally, in the coming five years. In the meantime, do stick around!

Sunday, 15th December 2013 23:59 GMT

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♥ YSL Beauty and Wool and the Gang have so generously offered to send the prizes, so it would be nice, out of respect but not requirement, to show support by visiting their sites and social media platforms! YSL | Wool and the Gang ♥

5 x YSL Rouge Pur Couture The Mats lipstick shades 201, 202, 204, 205, 206
1 x La Laque Couture nail polish shade 01 Rouge Pop Art
1 x Le Teint Touche Éclat foundation shade BD 40

1 x Wool and the Gang tartan Zion Lion hat – knit-yourself kit,
OR pre-knitted by Park & Cube
1 x YSL Rouge Pur Couture The Mats lipstick (Shade 203)

Well, good luck!

Que pasa, Barcelona!

Arc de Triomf

White skirt – Mango. Frill bra-let – Topshop. Check shirt – Motel Rocks (similar). Heels – Mango. Pyramid leather cuff – Mango. Rose-gold watch – Guess. Clutch – Kurt Geiger Dino.

This is my seventh year in London and I have a feeling I just may have crossed over to the dark side sometime in the past year or so. The dark side where everything is blown out of proportion, that is, most especially the weather: where basically, anything other than overcast, dull skies is considered a gift from the apocalypse. So now I’ve come to accept that a bit of wind and rain is a HURRICANE, a bit of snow a SNOWSTORM, and hot-dang it’s sunny out, there must be SCORPIONS lurking outside the door. Any reason to cancel work and stay in bed with tea… it’s quite clever actually. I noticed this though, only as I was packing for Barcelona, because it seems I had exaggerated SPAIN in my brain and packed a summer vacation wardrobe. I really should have stuck my arm out the window, i.e Googled, and learnt that autumn in Barcelona is actually a slightly warmer version of autumn in London – definitely not bikini top and straw hat weather. Good thing there were clothes a-plenty at the Mango DIY workshops, because apparently a denim shirt and boyfriend jeans a great pair of long-johns make. Enough about me, Barcelona: what a beauty! While not my first time in Spain, it was my first time in the city and hence the region of Catalonia, and once again despite my exaggerated image of hammocks-and-palm-trees Spain, it was quite the contrary. The Barcelona I found, was a true West-Europa metropolitan city, bustling with professionals shuffling by busily with their heads low, or with tourists that walk with their heads generally fixed on a second floor level, Carrie (travel buddy) and self included in the latter. You won’t believe how many photos of beautiful balconies and building detailing I came home with. The city is rich in architectural history: Gaudi to the famous Gothic quarters (Barri Gòtic), although in our under-researched pride we’d seen very little of either. In fact, we’d spent the afternoon tossing Cheetos’ into eachother’s mouths under the Arc de Triomf, convinced this was the place to be, blissfully ignorant of the hip El Born area around the corner we meant explore. Oh, mañana.

By the by, my Polish friends wag their fingers at my tweets about how I may die of trench-foot because it’s 10 degrees (50°F) out. Yes, I have failed them.

Photos with watermark courtesy of Mango, shot by Carrie Harwood. The rest by moi.

This was sunny Barcelona earlier last month, with the rockstar host Mango who brought together five bloggers (Yara, Levi, Christina, Carrie, moi) and four competition winners to two whole days filled with peachy fashion DIY fun. I was to overlook the workshops with my so-called ‘veteran’ DIY skills, and get the party started with a couple of projects. The stage was set, the venue decked out in every possible craft materials and tools imaginable, and of course, Mango victims (denim shirts, boyfriend jeans, accessories) sheepishly stacked along a wall, ready to be polka-dotted to death. And to my relief, lots of little dark corners to hide in if the DIY went wrong (i.e toilet with the stringy lightbulb thing). I was terrified, in all honesty, because as much as I like to call myself a DIY enthusiast, every project is still new to me with equal chance of success or failure. I could either end up with an amazing pair of slashed jeans, or a denim ‘thing’ with what could be pockets. Alas, the many years of ‘I play teacher, you play student’ games with my younger brother were of some use, it transpires, although as far as I remember nobody from this DIY workshop drank glue out of the bottle and ran off to mummy crying about it. I instructed the girls how to do ‘ABC’, and the girls went and wrote rap-songs out of their projects. It was mind blowing, actually, and wow am I really not as creative as I like to think (derp). Yeah, and nobody ate glue. I mean, I ate glue, while the girls created masterpieces. You’ll believe me when you see this.

Thank you Mango for the good fun and the warm welcome to Barcelona!