Instagram Outtakes 2015

Most of my Instagrams never get shared. I either get cold feet, or I just don't think they're all that. (I know, I know- 'What the fuck is she discarding if her IG is full of the ones she's pleased with?!', you're thinking. To which I can only say- 'hearin' you, feelin' you'). This has been the year where I've had constant storage issues with my phone, so it's really quite 'lucky' that I've even got these few dribs n drabs to show. (I've basically had to hit delete more times a day than The Daily Mail has declared that someone is putting on 'a leggy display'). So let's have a quick chinwag about these ones that never made the grade.
Soho Disco
Looking at this shot now, it's not striking me as particularly rubbish. At the time I maybe thought it was just a touch too minimal (say whattt?!) and a bit like 'here's my bag, innit good?' I dunno, I just thought it needed another element.
Boyfriends Are Overrated
This tee struck a bit of a chord, what with me being the most undateable girl in the history of humankind, so I spent shit loads of time in H&M trying to get a good picture of it. I did actually post a cropped, close-up version in the end, but it tanked. Then it struck me it was probably very arrogant of me to go around declaring such things in a 'plastered-across-my-chest' kinda way and that the top was actually aimed at girls with boyfriends. Maybe. And I looked fat.
Tea And Sympathy
I took this snap with the idea of tagging 'CoffeenClothes' and trying to get a regram. (Yes!! I am that cynical/tactical/dreadful!!). Then I realised tea isn't coffee, nor does it look like coffee. And that boyfriend jeans deffo did not go with those snakey H&M mules, and also that the pic was pretty poor quality. Next.
I fell in love with this baseball dress in And Other Stories. I hadn't seen anything else like it anywhere else, and I also thought that it might, just might, make an IG. But when I went to put it on I couldn't actually do the buttons up (hence why my grey sports bra top is showing). It had one of those placket thingies and it was just super-fiddly. Plus, it was hot and the queue of people waiting to get into the changing room was epic,  and in the end I took this one frame then gave up and went to get a smoothie from The Good Life Eatery.
Mr Blue Sky
Remember that one, random, amazingly hot Saturday in September? It was 30 degrees and I was hanging out with my sis on the balcony of her new flat. We just had the nicest time- chatting and bitching- and just generally doing what sisters do. I reallllly wanted to post this shot but in the end I didn't have the balls. I actually like a priddy sky pic or a lush sunset, but bailing seemed like the best option at the time.
Les Culottes
I loved these Topshop denim culottes which made an appearance in the sale at only fifteen quid. Sold! But coz I don't have a decent mirror at home I hung around for ages trying to get a good snap of them to throw onto IG. Whilst I was there making a tit of myself, Faye Ripley the actress, and her daughter wandered into the next changing room and I was utterly distracted ear-wigging on their whole conversation. This one never made it coz again I thought it was a) a touch boring and b) I looked fat.
Cos You Like It
I found myself in Cos one Saturday for a bit of a try-on, as you do. For the fashion-blogger, an Instagram of you in the Cos changing-room is an absolute rite-of-passage. Again, I spent forever in there, sitting down, standing-up, flinging my hair hither and thither, all to no avail. I literally cannot do good selfies and I should probably give up.
Heart Eyes, As Per
I bought these Adidas Racer Lites primarily because I fancied the bloke who served me. He was mixed-race, covered in tattoos and didn't seem utterly repulsed when he asked me what I was doing that evening and I said I was going to see 1D at the O2. Even if he was pretending, props to him for that. I actually really love these sneaks but they are deffo a 'summer trainer' (being all fabriquey and perforated as they are), and they actually went in the sale on at least half a dozen websites the week after I purchased. Gun Emoji. Anyroad. I took a couple of frames of them for IG, and one flatlay worked quite well so I went with that. (It didn't bomb, just so you have full disclosure). This pic was a close runner-up though. And if anyone has any clue who the hot Brummie bloke is who works at Size on Carnaby Street let me know :)



Block Party

It started- as so many things do- with Phoebe Philo. Céline's block-heeled ballet pump kicked off a fashion frenzy for the 'ugly shoe'. They were, and are- utterly spectack (but very uncomfortable appaz). Then the dupes started appearing. First up, Uterque leapt in with a silver version (can't find 'em online, but Oh-Lord-Have-Mercy these are sick). I was actually ready to purchase, but then Cos came hot on their heels (see what I did there) with their grey suede version. My main problem (with both of these) was that I hate shopping online, particularly for shoes. By the time I'd got my ass down to Cos my size had sold out. (That didn't stop me droopily mooching round the shop like Olive Oyl in the one size they did have left- a 40). I could tell they were soft, and ledge and I was completely heartbroken. Then imagine my delight when Topshop hit us with this block-heeled hottie. Sadly, the grey had again sold out in my size, so I went with the black (last pair at Oxford Circus as it goes) and they are seriously amaze. I can't tell you how soft they are, or just quite how much I feel the cat's freakin' whiskers in 'em. I just need a helluva lot more frayed jeans in my life to partner up with these babies. Does this shoe leave you cold? Or are you embracing the whole granny-chic thing? Tell all fash-heads x
Shoes- Topshop//Jeans- Topshop



Watch Me

A while back I bought a freakin' brilliant watch from ASOS. It had a leather strap, looked clean and simple and kept time amazingly well. Plus, it was as cheap as. (Five ticks, basically). But I've Grammed it and worn it to death, so boredom (and Black Friday) naturally led me to buying some new wrist candy. Enter stage-left...the black-faced watch. Now this little cracker hasn't got a leather strap so it's not as comfy, but who cares when it looks this good? If Larsson & Jennings, Daniel Wellington, Cluse, Triwa, Nixon, Shore Projects, The Fifth, Fjord, Deon Dane, Christian Paul, Marc Bale, Kapten (and all the other amazing watch brands out there) are not in your budget or they completely ignore the fact that you're an amazing blogger (cough cough) then look no further than ASOS. What's your fave watch ATM? *See what I did there.
Watch- ASOS//Bangle- ASOS//Jumper- Zara//Jeans- Zara



Christmas Came Early

Ain't gonna lie, I love a bit of self-gifting. In fact, most of my Black Friday purchases were for me myself and I- including this beaut- the Olympus Pen E-PL7. (I'm not a complete weasel though, I do completely trip off giving prezzies to other people too. Just sayin'). So, there I was at midnight last Thursday, all ready to leap into the cheapest deal I could find. My criteria were 1) I wanted to buy from a reputable site, and  2) I didn't wanna pay over £300. You've probably seen the cream version of this camera errrywhere recently, and I although I think it's sicker than yer average, I kinda wanted to go black and silver. Something in my head is telling me is has more aesthetic longevity. We'll see. By ten past twelve the purchase had happened and I was feeling a bit buzzed and a bit sick. I had to watch QVC for half an hour to try and calm the F down. (That actually didn't work as they were selling some amazingly cute Lenovo lappie for silly money and I really wanted to buy that too). So far, I haven't had a single minute to play with this baby. I haven't even charged the battery. And I know it'll probably take me all Christmas to figure out how to work it, but I'm psyched to try.
Do you own a Pen? Do you wanna own a Pen? Tell all camera babes x
Olympus Pen EP-7- The London Camera Exhange//Card- Design Letters//Plant- Ikea



Dear Santa

My love for handbags knows no bounds, but I do not- as yet- have a Chanel in my life. With Christmas just around the corner a 'Timeless' is at the very top of my wishlist (with a 'Wallet On A Chain' not too far behind). Obviously, buying a Chanel is a huge, big, mahoosive deal, but one that you can always justify in your mind for its resale value alone!!! (Ahem). The prospect of owning a Chanel is not only beyond heart-stoppingly exciting, but yes, it's also an investment. (Woo!) Like, you know, a house. (And at approximately the same cost). I've convinced myself (ha!).....but have I done a job on Santa? We'll have to see........x
What's at the top of your Christmas wishlist?
(Ph by Working Girl. She literally has the best stuff. If you aren't following her on Instagram, get on it).



How Real Is Your Instagram?

Ever since EssenaGate, a veritable deluge of articles analysing the 'faux reality' of Instagram have sprung up- not only in the big ole' blogosphere- but in 'trad' media too. As ever, I'm late to the party. But I wanted to weigh in with a few thoughts, nonetheless. So here goes
What You See Isn't What You Get
The pictures you see here are ones I took myself. I haven't posted them on IG yet, but I might do. (I try not to 'double-up' too much on images as it can get a bit Boris Boreoff). You're probably thinking- 'Hang on, has she gone and got an Acne Raya now? Lucky bitch. She probably bought it with that PPI money she doesn't stop banging on about'. But wait. Oh no, she hasn't bought a Raya. She actually just flatlayed her year old H&M cardi and artfully arranged the Acne label off her Skin 5s on top of it. Sound that faux klaxon. Loud. Your brain and the image were telling you one thing, but the 'reality' wasn't real. (Unless you're massively adept at spotting a Raya at fifty paces, in which case, props to you). Is it morally dubious to try and suggest that something from H&M has all the caché and luxeyness of something way more expensive from Acne? Probably. But it sure as hell makes the image more......lookable. And it certainly gives it- shall we say- a lot more Instagram leverage. *NB I did actually post a version of this pic on IG yesterday- and guess what?- it smashed it out the park. Which goes to prove.....summat or other).
I Grammed It My Way
So, how real is my Insta? Well, on the Essena Faux Scale, I'd say it's about a 9. (10 being as faux as you can go). Do I sit around cross-legged all day on a piece of white card wearing trainers? Nope. Do I artfully grab at black coffee placed at the perfect angle on a marble table-top? Nope. Do I stand in the street, pidgeon-toed, staring endlessly at the watch on my overly-tanned wrist? No, I do not. So, why why why am I actually doing this shit? Am I trying to make priddy pictures? I sure am. But to what end? Essena earned hundreds of dollars off each of her grams. Do I earn a single penny? No, sadly I don't. Do I ever even get sent anything to promo? Nope, not that either. Every day I hope beyond hope that a nice brand- you know- the ones that everyone else get sent stuff from- will hit me up. But they never do. I've kind of accepted it now. (She said). Some girls are like the Pied Piperesses of IG. I'm deffo not one of them. Keep working, keep hacking away, and maybe something 'good' will happen, I tell myself. And if this is all getting a bit woe is me- apologies. I can only really admire Essena all the more for walking away from the money-making machine she had going on.
Rinstragram v Finstagram
So, if it sounds like I'm about to 'do' an Essena and flounce off- you're spot on. I cannot tell you how sick I am of the backaches, the fake-tanning, the desperate scrabble to create more storage on my phone, the stress of hitting my target to gram twice a day, every day. The hope as I tag that maybe, just maybe, this time I'll get an RG. The pathetic game I play to try and hit 100 likes in twenty minutes. (Still my aim, still haven't reached it). The bitterness and jealously that eats me up everytime I see another rival peer getting a lovely gift from a lovely brand, or thousands of likes for another tagless pic. I never even used to think I was that ugly until I got on IG- but I now I know my face repulses people- and makes them unfollow- I'm assured of that fact. Quite frankly, I don't like what I've become. I'm not naturally someone who has a chip on their shoulder, or is jell of all and sundry, but I'm fast going down that road. To that end- yes I wanna quit. But I also know that the one day off I've taken in a whole year of gramming (after the Paris attacks, coz to me it didn't feel right to post) made me miss IG terribly. Even.After.One.Fucking.Day. (#theaddictionisreal) Perversely, I also wanna start another account- a 'rinstagram'- to post the reality of my life. The mundanity of it in all its glory. (For me- 'Fakestagram' sums up my current gram, and 'Realstagram' would be my new reality- although I appreciate I may have that arse about face). Not an original idea obvs, but it might be a way to help me reset and stop chasing my tail and hating on everything. We'll see.
How's IG treating you lately? Lemmie know xx PS Soz if this a downer
Cardigan- H&M//Watch- ASOS



Acne Canada

Another post, another PPI purchase. This time I've been splashing my (not very hard earned) cash on something I've been lusting after forevveerrrrrr. Last year I bought three scarves from Topshop and one from Zara, all at about twenty quid each. Then I sat myself down and said (in my best Danny Dyer voice) 'You fuckkkkkin' mug'. I could've easily forfeited the high street- just for once- and gone and got myself a ridiculously lustworthy Acne Canada instead. So this year- with my PPI firmly ensconced in my account- I hotfooted it down to Dover Street to finally treat maself. I actually expected my shopping experience in there to be a little bit unenjoyable and frosty. But no. Everyone there is lovely and normal (WTF) and whilst clearly unused to divs like me crossing their threshold (all my fellow shoppers were clearly loaded); the whole purchasing process was very pleasant. (Admittedly, this was in no small part due to the hot Aussie guy who served me. He was fair dinkum and no mistake). God, I'm gonna be so devz when this cash-monay of mine finally runs out. Catch you soon x
Scarf- Acne Studios



My Top Five Nude Lipsticks

Nine times out of ten I go for a neutral lip. I actually love wearing red lipstick, but I'm nothing if not lazy and wearing a strong colour is such hard work, innit? My picks here are my absolute current faves, and they work just as well with lipliner, or without. So let's get into it.
NYX Soft Matte Lip Cream in 'Cairo'
I recently did my first ever NYX haul and I have to say I'm seriously impressed. This product is basically a matte lip gloss. Which makes no sense at all. But you just swipe and go, for a 'your lips but better' look.
Soap & Glory Sexy Mother Pucker Gloss Stick in 'Nudist'
I picked this up in Boots when it was on special offer, and it's seriously the best two quid I've spent in ages. It looks like a pencil but it winds-up like a regular lipstick (which is perf for me as I can never be arsed to sharpen anything....told you I was lazy). There's also a good sheen in this product if you find matte lippies too drying.
Clinique Pop Lip Colour in 'Nude Pop'
You'll recognise this one straight away as the freebie from this month's Glamour. Everyone has been going cray for it, and rightly so. It's nice and pigmented, and it's also got a good moisturising element to it as well without being too glossy (#overthat).
NYX Butter Lipstick in 'Snow Cap'
This is more on the matte side of things but you absolutely cannot go wrong. Couple of dabs and it looks like you're wearing just a hint of sumptin' sumptin'.
Rimmel Lasting Finish Lipstick by Kate Moss in '42'
I've got a few of these Mossy nude shades and I like to use this one over a lipliner base. If you fill in your entire mouth your lipliner of choice then dab this on top you get a look with both depth and staying power. 
What are your fave nude lip products? Let me know as I wanna keep expanding my collection :)
All Products From Selfridges//Superdrug//Boots



Céline Baby Cabas

When I first got my PPI cheque I didn't even dare look at it. I just held it, took deep breaths and then crossed myself approximately seventeen times. Ain't gonna lie- it wasn't as much as I was hoping for. My battle to get any kind of payout at all has been ridiculously epic, with my bank at one point even denying I was a customer of theirs. (Serious case of WTF). But at the end of the day, I'm now a rich bitch. Ha! (Well, at least, it feels like it, if only for a hot minute). Naturally, once I'd got over the shock, excitement, and slight disappointment of receiving my cheque- my thoughts immediately turned to handbags. And the wish list compiling began in a flash.
My mum tells me one of the first words I ever learnt to say was 'baggie'. I even went round Disney World, aged seven, carrying a clutch bag and wearing large shades. (#yergetme) So, to say I'm an obsessed bag-laydee is something of an understatement. The bags I dream of owning are many and marginally varied, at any one time. Currently, it stands like this: Chloe Faye (large), Chloe Faye (small), Céline Trio, Céline Belt Bag, Céline Knot Bag, Céline Cabas Phantom, Céline Box Bag, YSL Sac Du Jour (small), YSL Universite, Balenciaga Mini Papier, Loewe Puzzle, Gucci Dionysus, APC Half Moon, Marni Trunk, Chanel Wallet On A Chain and every colour bucket bag that Mansur Gavriel make, (plus quite a few more). My sister's nickname for me is 'Greedy' and I can totally see where she's coming from with that one :) However, I didn't delay in getting my shop on and it's now not gonna be any great surprise to you- given the title of this post- that I went in- and I went Céline. I'd actually seen the Baby Cabas before and dismissed it (you know, coz I used to be poor); and I also had slight concerns about the proportions (it's on the small side for a tote). But I had a lovely time swanning round Céline like Lady Loadsamoney, and Melanie there is my new BFF. It was terrifying and exhilarating to just drop big cash bombs and not really have to stress about it. In fact, I got the wind in my sails verrrry quickly and started thinking about a knot bangle and a wallet and all sorts. But I want my fundage to stretch to some other stuff- like an Olympus Pen, and an Acne scarf, some Eames chairs, and maybe a few tinier treats too. So, thank you bank for ripping me off, then paying me back (eventually), thanks to my beaut sis for her perseverance in the whole matter (she's my rock) and thank you Phoebe P for being such a ledge. This bag lady is one happy obsessive.
Bag- Céline//Print- Sealoe



Skinny Rib Stripes

A couple of weekends back I went shopping with Mumsy. Sunday lunch out followed by some retail therapy has been a regular gig of ours for a long while. Until this year. (Tiny violin time). Both of us have been ill, and our outings have been on hiatus....until two weeks ago when we both decided we should 'try and be normal'. (Tall order for me in more ways than one. Insert yer own lol). One of our faves for a browse is Sandro. So in went, and cooed over errrything, but a navy pea coat combo-ed with a skinny rib stripey polo neck got us both silly excited. Mumsy said I should get both pieces (she hates that I wear cheap clothes); but even for a girl with a PPI cheque in her life, six hundred quid for the both seemed like a lotta cash to splash. A real case of 'look at this pea coat tell me she's broke', if ever there was one. Then I remembered that I'd seen a priddy good striped roll neck in Topshop. £28 is more my kinda thing (soz mum), and besides big money = handbags to me. *NB If you follow me on IG you'll already know I've bought one bag with my very-quickly-diminishing payout. And, well, Cos are normally ace on peacoats, aren't they? Catch you soon xx
PS Soz for the lack of thigh gap, lack of supportive nork harness and lack of in-focus pics
Striped Polo- Topshop//Cropped Flares- H&M//Bag- Mansur Gavriel



Instagram Irritations

As usual, pretty much everything on Instagram is annoying the beeejeeezus out of me, so I thought I'd compile a lovely list of my grievances to really give vent to my fury and hopefully cleanse my rather irritated soul.
Change Is A Good Thing
Er, no it freaking isn't. Who ever said change is good needs a cold shower and a head wobble. I'm referring (of course?) to IG's new and "improved" direct messaging. I used to love DMing. I'd be pinging pictures and pithy asides (ahem) back and forth all day to my main chicas, happily slagging off everyone in the whole wide gramo'sphere. But my preferred method of bitching has been cruelly taken from me. Basically, I have an iPhone 4S and an iPad Mini 2- so far- so first world. Neither allow me now to see my DMs for various techie reasons that I won't bore you with. So, I got in the queue at Apple where a bloke in a beanie told me I needed to back up, sync, load, reboot, go to Rymans, install the Apple app on my phone for an appointment (I made him try to do it- epic fail) and generally become the kind of person who doesn't need to get in the queue at the Apple shop. If I understood the first thing about technology I wouldn't be here, in this bastard queue, when I could be in Zara. Since QueueGate, I now can't use IG at all on my phone any more, it's hit storage and I'm not due an upgrade until next May. Fucking May. Pissed off? Just a teeny weeny bit.
Now You're Just Somebody That I Used To Know
With increasing frequency I'm getting girls who I once counted as 'buddies', not liking my pictures and then unfollowing me. Of course, being Mrs Loyal (first name Naive) it never occurs to me that these things are gonna happen. So I cheerfully carry on liking their pics and throwing out gushing compliments like Muggy McMugsville, when they've discarded my sorry ass some time back. Great.
Happy Fucking Birthday
Get on this: I'd been following and liking the pics of a very cool girl for some time when she finally noticed me. (Who, me? Fucking hell, this whole thing is like sitting on the 'Singles Bench' in Grease waiting for some boy to take pity on you and ask for a dance). Yes! Woo! She liked my pic! Emboldened by the positivity she was showering upon me I decided to wish her happy birthday. I thought nothing more of it until she posted her next picture. For some reason I decided to look back at her birthday snap only to find she'd said thank you to every other freaking arsehole person who sent her birthday wishes....except me. And I mean everyone. 
The Hulk
Some people on IG are just annoying aren't they? You can't put your finger on quite why, but they are. For a while I'd been getting what I consider to be 'passive aggressive' comments off one particular girl. I'd held my keyboard thus far, figuring I didn't really wanna get into a big aul' ding-dong on there unless absolutely necessary. But when she had another dig recently I couldn't let it pass. I thought about what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it (only fools rush in). Anddddd......she apologized and I think felt suitably embarrassed. (I played the illness card. Not proud. But I am ill and I can't fucking see very well, so there you go). I could've torn strips off her, but I've a feeling I might need to save that one for another day. (Dot, dot, dot) *Not in the Mamma Mia sense
Rumi Has It
Do you follow Rumi Neely? You probably do as she has way over half a million "Insta Disciples". Increasingly she seems to enjoy courting controversy, or at very least, sparking debates about her weight. 'Stop thin shaming', 'She may be happy with her figure', 'Please eat something', and so it goes on, endlessly. I know I know, I can unfollow if I don't wanna see it. But actually, I do wanna see her weird, contorted, pseudo-sexual poses, and I do definitely wanna see The Fighting Followers trying to make sense of it all. I guess I'm doing the Instagram version of driving slowly past a car crash. But then again, that is basically what  IG is about, so I'm not losing sleep. 
What's been bugging you recently on IG? Lemmie know xx
PS Wow- look at my camera roll shot- so full of beautiful, fleeting, meaningful moments forever captured. On no, it's just full of self-obsessed shit for Instagram
Sunnies- Céline//Notebook- Bloggers Planner//Cup- Design Letters



Is Using Photoshop Immoral?

To Photoshop or not to Photoshop, that is the question. Personally, I love grappling with a moral dilemma and there's none more pertinent to bloggers than the fine art of digital retouching; so let's get into it.
Cards On The Table
Straight off the bat, I should fess up here and admit that I use both P-Shop and Facetune. (Actually, I use Gimp on my laptop- which in case you don't know- is like a freebie version of The Shop for tightwads). I started using Gimp when I asked a good friend if he knew how to correct a holiday snap of mine. (Vain much? You betcha). I loved the pic, but my flyaway Brillo-Pad hair and smudged mazzy? Not so much. He told me to download Gimp and gave me very specific instructions on what to do. (He knows I'm a complete div and would only have ended up asking him to help me anyway had he not put it in Gimp-For-Dummies terminology). I was absolutely fascinated by it and immediately set to work 'correcting' all sorts of shit- including a lovely snap of my mummy and me that I completely ruined by looking like Michael Jackson. 
A Little Goes A Long Way
So far, so what? All I'd done was rescue photos that I made look rubbish by 'merely' enhancing them into a printable, saveable and frameable state-of-being. Did that make me a moral pauper? Not if you go by the great Susan Sontag's theory that all photos are simulacrums and inherently 'fake'. Then I started blogging, and things started to get a bit more hazy.
Blurred Lines
I've read about girls who've used Photoshop, then given it all up and put out a confessional 'cleansing' blog post to heal the wounds. I've read about girls who use P-Shop on the regz and don't worry a jot about it. And I've also read about girls who stand in judgement of those that use it and think we are akin to Satan crossed with Lindsey 'Wonky Wall' Lohan. I actually think everyone has a valid point of view. I continue to use it,  and here's for why. The most valuable things that Gimp enables me to do are 1) crop a picture without losing pixels and 2) lighten a photo dramatically in a very precise way. For a long while I was cropping my pictures in Windows Photo Reader (srsly) and Holy Grainyballs did it show. I'll also go so far as to say that for a complete dunce like me it's actually enjoyable learning shit on Gimp, and it feels like it's the one thing under the general category of 'Computer Stuff' where I've actually developed any skillz whatsoever. I still don't know how to use it properly and everytime I Google how to do something my brain hurts immediately and I have to stop. But I look forward to stumbling upon new and interesting ways to make my piccies better. (I've included a Before And After below so you can see my corrections. Not vastly different at first glance it's true, but just that bit cleaner, and generally more pleasing to my eye- and hopefully yours).
Face Off
Finally, let's tackle Instagram. Facetune is my go-to app for all my gramming (including fliters). For my flatlays I clean-up any stray bits of dirt or hairs that magically always seem to find their way onto my white card (as per below) and yes, I'm not above removing a spot or a wrinkle. You may think that's wrong. Or misleading. Or as my friend Greg from college once said "you're only cheating yourself". (He was actually referring to the fact that my entire class cheated on their Art History mock A-Level, but the point remains). For me- someone with acne and acne scarring- it's oddly theraputic to magically erase the craters on my face, and is probably something that only those with skin problems can fully understand. (I'm far from trying to 'perfect' myself though and if you look back at any of my shoots on here you'll see I always end up looking stupendously average in every way). I'm just trying not to let the nasty shit detract from an outfit or an image. Sometimes of course, that 'nasty shit' can make a picture (particularly when a good photographer is behind the lens- think- Bruce Webber's obsession with broken noses for example); but for the purposes of blogging I feel no shame in tidying things up. What do you think about retouching? Do you indulge? Do you find me utterly Satanic? Lemmie know xx
Sneaks- Adidas//Cup- Design Letters//Flower- Sia



En Brogue

I've always wanted a pair of black patent brogues, so when my Fairy Shoemother (AKA Olivia) kindly sent me these I was buzzing. They're all leather which makes them super comfy (especially sans sock) and aesthetically, they strike the perfect balance between boyish and girlish (don'tcha think?). Oh and in case you didn't know (I didn't) the artist formerly known as DuoBoots have had a lil' aul brand make-over and are now going by the name Ted & Muffy. So, now that we're up to speed, just a quick word on the rest of this outfit. The trews are an absolutely ledge pair from Gap that were 40% off and are slightly stretchy, slightly cropped and the buggers have only got pockets too. Result. The jumper is a Whistles one that my sis bought me for my birthday and I've worn it so much it's actually blown both our minds. (Which reminds me, I must, erm, wash it). Do you have any brogues in your life? (Or indeed any jumpers that could walk by themselves). Lemmie know xx
PS Soz about the half dead flowers
Brogues- *Ted & Muffy//Trousers- Gap
Jumper- Whistles//Print- Sealoe



I Haul Therefore I Am

It probably won't come as any great surprise to you when I impart the following information: I shop all the time. My life is basically: Eat, Sleep, Shop, Repeat. But when September rolls around I up my hauling game to even more monumental levels in preparation for the oncoming season. For the last couple of weeks I have basically taken up residence in Zara and only popped home occasionally to check the post and deposit my wares. So, what have I purchased? Top of the A/W hitlist for me (and I think for everyone) is a pair of boots. This time I've gone for these which are strictly to be worn only with cropped flares of some kind or other. Of course now I've bought them I'm getting my eye into flared heels and sock boots (again, these would look so so wrong with skinnies, precipitating the need for a lorra lorra different cropped trews and jeans to set them off to their best advantage). Each A/W I tend to buy enough knitwear to make an entire sheep farm shiver, and I've started as I mean to go on with this cropped sweater (but I realllllly like this from Cos, I just struggle a bit mentally with spending £60 on a jumper). I've also bought this merino wool knit from H&M which is the kind of thing I'll live in all winter. 
Also, whilst on the subject of H&M I should also make mention of these freakin' amazing girlfriend jeans. They are super-comfy and super-slouchy and just ledge. I also couldn't resist another pair of lace-up flats in the form of these nude suedette versions of The Trend That Won't Die. (Although what I'm really truly lusting after are these suede beauts- again- money is the issue and nowt else). I am also slightly obsessed with raw hems at the moment, and yes- I could've chopped up some of my old jeans- but no, only new will do for Little Miss Greedy; so I got these. How's your hauling going? Lemmie know xx
Boots- Zara//Knit- Zara//Girlfriend Jeans- H&M
Lace-Up Flats- Zara//Raw Hem Jeans- Zara//Cacti- Ikea



Blogging, Blagging and Blackmail

Macarongate probably didn't escape your attention. It happened a couple of weeks back and blew up T'Intz. (If you missed it, catch up here). I'd like to think my moral compass points (pretty) firmly to Magnetic North, but there seems to be right and wrong on both sides in this case. The whole débacle- however- definitely got me thinking about the murky world of 'freebies', cue: earnest debate.
There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch
Not according to bloggers (that's us!! hiya!!). We would have you believe that what we do is incredibly hard work. Something akin to toiling at the coal face. Yes, it is exhausting hauling and shooting and editing and writing and socialmediaring but saving lives we are not. A freebie is a freebie is a freebie. Don't try and dress this shit up (pardon the pun). Evidence (should it be required) is all over Depop- in the form of clothes that bloggers have only worn once for half an hour to shoot in and are now trying to make dollar on.
Must Be Funny
Whilst on the subject of cold hard cash, let's just remind ourselves that a sizeable minority of bloggers charge for their posts. To be honest, I'm still wrapping my swede round that one, but I can only say bon chance guurrrllllfriend, go forth and milk it.
Getting A Bad Rep
One thing that Macarongate highlighted was that bloggers seem to be getting diva reps to everyone that isn't us. Civilians, PRs, Russian oligarchs sick of girls from Kent trying to conduct impromptu shoots on their otherwise immaculate street in Belgravia. You name 'em, we seem to be pissing them off. This is not a good thing. Of course, magazine editors have always hated us and regard us as mere amateurs whoring ourselves out for the slightest chance to waft in front of Tommy Ton's lens or snag one of those aforementioned freebies. Can owt be done to restore our reps? Possibly, but 'The Blogger' in Macarongate definitely got way more hate than 'The Baker', indicating it may be a long road.
Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie
Speaking of being a diva and annoying the sweet baby jesus out of PRs, let's get down to the rights and wrongs of 'asking for things'. Personally I'd rather die than ask a PR for anything. I guess it comes from being a journalist and having the mindset of regarding them as annoying irritants constantly trying to flog me shit I don't want. Am I missing out? It's entirely possible. It goes back to the old playground thing. Some girls wanted a crisp out of their friend's packet of Walkers at break time so asked. Some other girls also wanted the crisp, but thought it better not ask believing they were then more likely to be offered. In life- some people are of the 'don't ask, don't get' ilk, whilst others keep it on the down-low. (You don't say). Which reminds me, you know how 'Céline at Selfridges' have got their own Instagram account? I once saw a blogger shamelessly write under one of their pictures, 'I'd love to do a collab'. Christ Oh Lord did I blush. I even nearly cried. I cringed for her. I cringed for myself. I cringed for the entire known universe. Guess what 'Céline at Selfridges' pinged back- just a simple, damning, one word response- 'Collab?'. Holy shit: there were lolz. At the same time you may be thinking 'good for her', and part of me also admires the mahoosive cojones involved in such a punt*. *Yes, I said punt.
So, can we conclude anything from this sugary firestorm? (Apart from the fact that I never asked anyone for a crisp during break). Probably only that money talks and bullshit walks (with bare props to Bobbi Flekman). Where do you stand on the whole freebie thing? Do you hit up PRs? Tell all chicas xx

Notebook- The Bloggers Planner//Macarons- M&S (lol)



How To Survive Instagram

A survival guide? To Instagram? Am I on coke? (Nope, not even the diet variety, sadly). Have I lost my marbles? (Not much debate needed there). Does the world really require a guide to surviving an app? (Especially one that is supposed to be fun). Well, I've concluded that yes- a little chat is needed about what to do when it's all going Pete T on there and you have that overriding impluse to throw in the towel.* (*This actually happens to me most days). So, let's chat. (Christ I sound like Alan Partridge).
Too Legit To Quit
A few weeks ago I somehow managed to accrue 4000 followers on Instagram. For me, this was a big achievement. (Woo! Partay! Thank you for 4k!- NB* I didn't actually do that 'thank you for 4k' thing- I just said it in my head). I realise for most fashion bloggers this is an embarrassingly meagre tally- although to most civilians (if I may borrow from La Hurley for a moment)- it's a jolly big numero and I should shut the fuck up if I'm gonna start whining about it. For a New York minute I was buzzing. I said to myself once (if I ever got to the dizzying heights of 4k) I wouldn't stress about IG so much. I wouldn't knock myself out posting two pics a day. (How can it be exhausting sharing two teeny tiny photos on line? Ugggh, it just is). In short, I would just chill- and try to enjoy it. Sure enough, none of those things happened. Why? Coz life ain't like that.
Good Better Best
At my prep school (what ho!) we had a motto (which we had to repeat on the regz)-  'Good, better, best, never let it rest, 'til the good is better and the better best'. I priddy much remember sod all from when I was younger, but that has stuck. Which is odd given that I have the very definition of a 'quitter's mentality'. I mean, of course I wanna do better in life generally, and in blogging (and gramming) specifically; but I suspect that if it were easy (although God only knows some girls make it look like that) I may be even less inclined to keep going. (There's logic there somewhere). In short, enbracing the 'difficulties' may actually pay dividends*.
*Who am I kidding? I wanna sit on my arse all day while someone cooks me Deliciously Ella's entire oeuvre whilst watching my IG grow by hundreds of followers daily for no apparent reason.
Take A Breather
Every time one of my friends wants to quit IG I do my darndest to talk them down from the ledge. (And they me). We all tend to conclude that a teeny break from the place can do some good. Even if it's just to see if you miss it. I always keep this in mind coz I once saw a girl delete her account and start another one afresh. This may seem very appealing when you look at your feed and think it's balls. I suspect the better route is to delete your pics (all of them if you must) and keep those hard-won followers with you. 
Get Some Perspective
Modern life troubles me. Particularly phone zombies. I don't go out drinking and partying (can't, unfortunately) but I hear that boys and girls don't even bother looking at each other any more, they just sit there scrolling through Tinder when they could be flirting with actual human beings IRL. And well, fuck only knows it's tough to put IG down (too). But if you try and shove it into a little mental box merely marked 'app on my phone' you may start to realise that's all it is. Yes, you don't even have to look at it! (Christ I need to take my own advice here).
So, there's my survival tips. (Shit, weren't they?) Bear Grylls I ain't. You ever feel the urge to quit IG? What stops you, if so? Tell all peeps x
Denim Mini- Topshop//Slides- Dune//Print- Sealoe



Le Skinny

So, I bought this skinny black neck-tie scarf thingy about a month ago. I thought it would greatly enhance  my entire floordrobe. I was wrong. It deffo doesn't go with everything, and as per, my ginger rats tails clash with it too. No matter. It'll probably look three thousand times better on you and totally Chloefy your life. Oh, and soz for the singular frame too. There were no good snaps from this shoot. Literally none. Zero. Zilch. Nada. (Including this one). And my computer's broken. Lucky I am not. Catch you soon (hopefully- once I've done that wrap-my-lappie-in-a-pashmina-and-take-it-to-the-mender-Carrie-style) xx
Top- Zara//Skinny Scarf- Zara//Denim Mini- Topshop



Diary Of A Fashion Blogger

Woke up to find I've lost 8 followers overnight on Instagram. Try not to be pissed off. But I am. Why does everybody else's freakin' account grow except mine? Throw on this morning's pic and hope that it doesn't go down like a lead balloon. Shiiitttt. It picks up likes super-slowly and by lunchtime I've lost another 5 followers. WTF. Check the account of a girl who not two weeks ago had less followers than me. She's now got 400 more! Four hundred! She doesn't even tag either. (How does that work?) I feel like if I put on a shit, dark snap of fuck all with zero tags I stand a better chance of doing 'well'. I'm struggling to do that (what I consider) 'fake thing' of commenting on everyone's piccies to get my name 'out there'. I only comment sincerely. I only do anything sincerely. Maybe that's where I'm going wrong. I'm feeling so emosh today. A celebrity has died and for some reason I lose it and start crying as I'm reading about her life. I'm not good at being tough. I'm literally the weakest person I know, but I fight the urge to cry more (it only makes my eyes hurt) and also with my plan to quit IG. (How long will that last?) On the plus side, my blog post has got two comments within an hour of being published. Woop-De-Doo.

Exercise this morning. Dear God in heaven I hate it more than my noisy neighbours. (And that's saying something). I think Kayla Itsines would laugh if she saw me. I think most people would laugh if they saw me. Buy New and Grazia during lunch. I love weekly magazines and devour them like a 5-2er on one of their 5 days. Then comes the obligatory lunchtime scroll through IG. I get The Fear (as usual) when I have to face up to seeing how many followers I've lost. (Gained 2, Lost 2, so it's as you were). I then realise that a girl I follow hasn't come up on my feed recently so I do a quick search for her name. This reaps no rewards so I figure she must've deleted her account. But just out of interest I decide to google too....and whaddya know....her account is alive, well and very much kicking. The penny drops very slowly (I'm thick, bear with)-  she's only fucking blocked me. Now this throws me into another tailspin. Why would she do that? What have I done to her? I try and recall if I've said anything remotely offensive, but can find no evidence. I posted one comment under one of her pictures about six months ago and she followed me (back). I diligently liked all her pics, but I never said owt further. I now miserably recall the half-jokey exchange I had with Josie t'other week about blocking on The Gram. Well, that's come back to bite me, hasn't it? I thought blocking was only used when people are being mean or abusive. Silly naive me. (I can google her feed any old time though so she hasn't really achieved much has she? Other than to be spiteful and speed her passage to hell. Plus, I'm a touch bored of her endless culottes and white shirts. Oh, and ever thought of learning to spell, love? Your blog is literally, literary jokes).

I've got a work deadline so I have to prioritise. If I get everything done I need to I'll reward myself with a little Topshop visit. Shopping is my reward, for, well, just about everything. I don't even have to buy. Just being in a shop makes me buzz my face off. That's why I don't really like shopping on-line. Plus, I loathe waiting in for packages, and returning things to the post office is literally my idea of purgatory. Hit my deadline, so it's Toppers here I come. Try on some sale clogs (size too big), look at a very cute dungaree dress (longingly) and end up buying two Celine-dupe hairslides and one of those fluffly pom-pom things you hang off your bag. I'm deffo not a fluffy pom-pom kinda person but it's too cute to resist.
Thank the freakin' lord I don't have to shoot any looks this week. (I mean, maybe I should've instead of writing all this shit down), but I despise the whole process so much I'm keen to avoid it where poss. I do however, have to get a couple of FWISs in the bag. So, I put on some temporary fake tan (layered on top of my actual fake tan- yes, I really am that pale), grab some sunnies and head out. Fuck only knows what people think. In lots of ways I'm immune to all the stares and comments now, and at the same time I'm not. Men seem to take the sight of a girl, alone, taking pictures of her feet, as some sort of green light to chat. Which reminds me, I was busy walking along minding my own beeswax last week when some random bloke came up to me and asked me if I had the time. *Warning Siren* I never normally stop or speak when I get asked that question, because invariably it's a complete oddball doing the asking. But for some reason I stopped and said 'No, sorry I haven't'. (All true by the way, I wasn't wearing a watch, and fumbling in my bag for hours for my phone was deffo not an option I wanted to pursue). Guess what he said? Fuck off. Straight up, no messing, he just said fuck off.

I'm going backwards on IG. Again. I've posted 10 pics so far this week and I have piss all to show for them. An interesting American girl I follow, who up until recently was about 1000 followers behind me now has 600 more. She doesn't tag either. (Literally, how does anyone ever see your picture? Please someone enlighten me). She very sweetly likes all my pics, but I'm baffled why as she's very cool and I'm very not. I see A today. He's looking tanned and hot. H isn't with him. H is the one I really wanna see. I mean A is pure eye candy, and has deffo got a lot about him, but H makes me die. Whenever I update my FB (which is once a week if I remember) I sneak a look at A's account. There's a video on there of A skateboarding, clearly shot by H. Why didn't H just turn the camera on himself for a microsecond? H's face is the stuff of legend. I don't even know how it's physically possible for someone to be as beautiful as him. Last time I saw him was a year ago. A fucking year! I was wearing make-up then. I can't believe how much has changed for me in that time. I wouldn't actually want him to see me now. My eyes are a horror show. I have tried to wear make-up as a 'treat' once a week, but my eyes burn with pain after a couple of hours and I can't wait to take it all off. Still, I rehearse the conversation I am gonna have him when I do eventually see him. It's got an excellent Olivier Giroud reference and a flat-out refusal to pick up where we left off (trust me, he would try, he's a chancer). Anyway, I'm excited to stay at my mum and dad's for the whole weekend, sleep in and dream of handbags, normal functioning eyes and happier times with cute boys.
Watch- ASOS//Notebook- Ikea//Cup- Ikea
Scissors- Bonsai Direct//Hair Slides- Topshop//Cacti- Ikea



Still Summer

Shoots are like buses, aren't they? You wait forever for one, and then two turn up at once. So, not only do I have the planning skillz of a flea, but I've also managed to replicate the exact colour palette of that aforementioned shoot/bus. You'd think I could remember that I put together a black, white and red look not a couple of weeks since? Nope, not this sieve-head. Actually, laziness is mostly the culprit. I just happened to be wearing these shorts for a day of low-key errand-running (with a skanky auld tee and Birks). I then (stupidly) thought I'd half disrobe and just throw everything else on and trot out with the Nikon. And it shows. These shorts are deffo not blog-worthy and I can only apologise. They will not be rearing their utilitarianism/unflatteringness/mum-at-a-bar-b-queness again. So onto prettier things- like this top. I'm forever in love with a floaty white, hippy dippy tops (especially in this all pervasive Chloe-heavy S/S), and this cutie has stopped me from buying similar ones in Zara (for a lot more dollar). Big yay for that. And whilst me and the Mango glads did not see eye-to-eye (nor ankle-to-tie), these Gap ones (actually love the place, ain't gonna lie) stay up marginally better (although Fig 2 proves that gravity always wins). Oh, and while we're chit-chatting about tie-up sandals, these are dope too. You still clinging to Summer? You digging on ethereal white tops? You ever accidentally worn your shittiest shorts for blogging? Tell all my chicas, catch you soon xx
Top- SheInside*//Shorts- Gap
Gladiators- Gap//Bandana- ASOS//Sunnies- And Other Stories

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