I took another unannounced break from writing, work and nothingness, and spent a month in Croatia discovering cursed islands and light filled caves, museums dedicated to the death of love and shrines to saints. An inevitable escape prompted by a festival, and elaborated by a desperate need for something. A something I found in disposable cameras holding onto secrets and a contentment that's made the edges of my life a little less fuzzy.

Now frayed denim and jelly shoes have been forgotten for darkening skies and the smell of Autumn; a heavy humidity in the air the last trace of summer warmth. One I'm happy to let slip away for dark cherry lips and mulled wine, cream argyle knits and frosted glass.
I've happily fallen back into monochrome and sheers and London life, aggressive PU felt and a sports bra felt apt for last nights dinner party next door to the biggest squat in London. 

PU Mid length skirt: Asos
Sheer top: American Apparel
Sports bra: Primark



White Pleats and Blue Oceans


Stepping off the plane to be engulfed by a heady mixture so familiar in its strangeness; an assault of the senses so laden with nostalgia I’d know it anywhere. An earthy perfume of wild lavender and dry spice, the taste of the ocean, and the feeling of home.

Dress: Zara
Images taken at Praia dos Arrifes and Praia do Evaristo



Black Out Poetry and Pressed White Orchids


I've fallen into a creative rut of late. Late being the last few years of my post-graduate life. A foggy malaise without terms and deadlines, where weeks slip into months unnoticed. Exposed films lose their sense of urgency and the smell of dark room chemicals, of salt and vinegar chips, is lost to the taste of fuel and rain and London streets.

This missed memory of grubby hands and permanent ink, dark magic that happened under red light to the rhythmic shuffling of trays. I want it back, or something akin.
I took a month off from blogging and work routines. One Sunday I sat on the floor of my flat with the door open, pressing orchids and finding epiphany's in tired script, and hopefully my way back.



Rose Gold + White


For bitter cold days, I stopped dressing my arms in gold bands, stolen watches and gemstones brought back from European shores. Rolling up my sleeves to emancipate them from their clumpy cloth prison is instead revealing bruises from the riddle that is thick jewel adornment and thin winter coat sleeves.
My recent purchases have solved this with rose gold cuffs + white cut out. A childhood regression to girly socks with sheer panels and velcro PU that reminds me of a time when learning to tie my shoes would be an accomplishment rewarded with coloured laces and intricate bows. As the days start to soften and I shirk off my layers, my ankles and wrists can fight it out to be crowned, but for now, ankles rule.

Socks: Asos / here
Shoes: eBay
Cuffs: eBay




I first met this suit of twisted yarn and hidden pockets in the 90's, through flannel print and Benneton hues, when even matching items seemed to clash and it didn't occur to me that colour co-ordination could be an option. Through pigment drenched and heavy print, the deconstructed onesie was my unquestioning uniform growing up. I wore over-sized graphic tees and blue cotton jodhpurs that matched my Push-Pop stained lips, and found contentment in how the ku-click shhh of an opened coke can would find unity with the rustle of a polyester tracksuit. Everything was better when it went together.

Jumper + Leggings: The Only Son