Step 1: stop what you are doing.
Step 2: pick up your purse.
Step 3: extract credit card.
Step 4: buy everything.
THE DRESSES
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| Yumi Lovely Lemurs dress, £38 (was £63), ASOS |
From afar, I look at this photo and think three things.
1) That's a nice red dress.
2) That's a nice bag.
3) Those are god-awful shoes.
Up close, however, I think only one thing. It may be the most important thought I have ever had, so brace yourself, dear reader. It's profound, it's philosophical, it may just change your world forever. It is:
The chevron explosion on this Carys dress from Joy reminds me a little of the colourful tessellation of some of Bridget Riley's later works. You'll be pleased to know that's the sum of my serious art chat for today, but I'll be back next week with an in-depth critique of why International Klein Blue is a hard colour for anyone to pull off.
These beautiful shoes look like the sort of not-that-high heels I can actually walk in without the aid of a zimmer frame/local anaesthetic. What has happened to me? Between the years of 1996-2009, I could trot around on massive heels, being all tower-like. I was the Eiffel, the CN, sometimes Blackpool if it was an off-day. And now? Put me in anything over a few centimetres, and I am at best Pisa, and at worst the Pharos Lighthouse. Sometimes I'm Babel, but that's only when I've been on the gin.
When I found these gorgeous green suede heels from Miss L Fire, I was all set to tell you that it had been a Herculean task to find them. That it took a lot of detective work on my part, that at times it felt like murder (on the Orient Express). My little grey cells were almost Belgian out of my head after Suchet difficult investigation.
Thank heavens she found out she was quite good at acting.
LEMURS!
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| Louche Carys dress, £25 (was £45), Joy |
The chevron explosion on this Carys dress from Joy reminds me a little of the colourful tessellation of some of Bridget Riley's later works. You'll be pleased to know that's the sum of my serious art chat for today, but I'll be back next week with an in-depth critique of why International Klein Blue is a hard colour for anyone to pull off.
THE SHOES
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| Delilah heels, £75 (was £104.99), Miss L Fire |
These beautiful shoes look like the sort of not-that-high heels I can actually walk in without the aid of a zimmer frame/local anaesthetic. What has happened to me? Between the years of 1996-2009, I could trot around on massive heels, being all tower-like. I was the Eiffel, the CN, sometimes Blackpool if it was an off-day. And now? Put me in anything over a few centimetres, and I am at best Pisa, and at worst the Pharos Lighthouse. Sometimes I'm Babel, but that's only when I've been on the gin.
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| Poiret heels, £65 (was £99.99), Miss L Fire |
When I found these gorgeous green suede heels from Miss L Fire, I was all set to tell you that it had been a Herculean task to find them. That it took a lot of detective work on my part, that at times it felt like murder (on the Orient Express). My little grey cells were almost Belgian out of my head after Suchet difficult investigation.
Yes, I was all set to tell you that. And then I looked at the name of the shoes again, and realised they're called Poiret. Not POIROT.
Striped out after our round-up earlier this week? NAH! We've always got room in our cloth hearts for a few more stripes. I really like this Boden skirt. Box pleats can be a little too school uniform when they're in a solid colour, so hallelujah for this combo, which is described as 'fruit punch and pearl' because Boden works with a different palette to the rest of us. Of course it does.
I ADORE THIS SKIRT. You can't tell from this photo, but there's some sort of devoré thing going on (the word 'burnout' in the description may have alerted you to this fact. It doesn't mean the skirt is going to rehab for 'exhaustion'). The whole thing is stupendously pretty and I want it on my lower half right now. I'd even settle for it on my top half. I could wear it as a cape.
The first Tatty Devine piece I ever bought was their Gilbert & George gin necklace. I still love it. I may be forced to buy the matching enamel brooch, but I promise I'll only wear them together when I'm very, very, very drunk.
Thanks to this Lady Muck honeycomb and bee necklace, I have been reminded of Billie Piper's 1999 magnum opus Honey To The Bee. And because I alone can't be haunted by this all afternoon, here's a reminder:
THE SKIRTS
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| Striped skirt, £55.20 (was £69), Boden |
Striped out after our round-up earlier this week? NAH! We've always got room in our cloth hearts for a few more stripes. I really like this Boden skirt. Box pleats can be a little too school uniform when they're in a solid colour, so hallelujah for this combo, which is described as 'fruit punch and pearl' because Boden works with a different palette to the rest of us. Of course it does.
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| Burnout floral skirt, £52.50 (was £75), ASOS |
I ADORE THIS SKIRT. You can't tell from this photo, but there's some sort of devoré thing going on (the word 'burnout' in the description may have alerted you to this fact. It doesn't mean the skirt is going to rehab for 'exhaustion'). The whole thing is stupendously pretty and I want it on my lower half right now. I'd even settle for it on my top half. I could wear it as a cape.
THE JEWELLERY
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| Tatty Devine gin brooch, £12 (was £15), Red Door Gallery |
The first Tatty Devine piece I ever bought was their Gilbert & George gin necklace. I still love it. I may be forced to buy the matching enamel brooch, but I promise I'll only wear them together when I'm very, very, very drunk.
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| Lady Muck honeycomb and bee necklace, £35 (was £43), Red Door Gallery |
Thanks to this Lady Muck honeycomb and bee necklace, I have been reminded of Billie Piper's 1999 magnum opus Honey To The Bee. And because I alone can't be haunted by this all afternoon, here's a reminder:
Thank heavens she found out she was quite good at acting.
Oh Laura, I was editing a book. It was mainly about Poiret but it also did have a couple of mentions of Poirot. It made my little grey spelling cells go absolutely insane. Those shoes takes me back to that dark place (not Belgium).
ReplyDeleteAhem: "take me back". I'm dead good at these word things, honest.
DeleteThat box pleat skirt is making me very happy.
ReplyDeleteI have that lemur dress and I ADORE it. I actually bought it a size too big in my rush to grab it before it sold out !
ReplyDeleteThey've modelled it badly (not something I usually say about ASOS), I can't tell if it's fitted or not. How's the sizing, Sarah?
DeleteI have now bought the lemur dress. And also another sale dress by Yumi from ASOS called the Fantasy Forest Dress, which has unicorns on it. Am I too old for unicorns? (early thirties)
ReplyDeleteNaomi, never! Saying you are too old for unicorns is like saying you don't believe in fairies.
DeleteYeah, don't ruin unicorns for us!
Deletehttp://www.domesticsluttery.com/2013/11/a-unicornucopia-of-magical-delights.html
(I don't believe in fairies. And if they did exist I reckon they'd be pretty damn annoying.)
DeleteSian, a whole tribe of fairies has just died... Cue some frantic hand-clapping.
DeleteYeah, that whole clapping thing - annoying, isn't it?
DeleteLaura, I'd like to know your thoughts on International Klein Blue and sunglasses. Would these work, or do they prove your "hard colour to pull off" theory? http://www.couvertureandthegarbstore.com/Product/?p=8308&i=9808
ReplyDeleteI just bought the lemur dress and very nearly went for the unicorn top but it had sold out in my size. I am beyond excited about lemurs (and unicorns). I'm 42. No such thing as too old!
ReplyDelete