Tonight it's been snowing - a rare feat in permanently wet London. Moreover, the snow is actually settling. Everyone always seems to idealise snow; it conjures images of delicious porridge, cosy fires and wonderfully warm cashmere and knitted cardigans. Whenever winter comes round, I start craving things from Brora. More fairisle, please!
Reindeers suddenly become chic and cute, like this Topshop cardigan and a reindeer-invaded grey number I almost purchased from H&M yesterday (randomly I found a blogger posing in it for her daily wear picture here). I want to drown myself in seas of sheepskin rugs and beautiful slippers. When shopping, sexy little party dresses seem ridiculous and I get drawn to the socks and tights section. Today, I splurged on woolly tights.
All so picturesque.
Yet, in reality right now I'm bundled up in an ill-fitting t-shirt, a couple of hoodies and a pashmina stuffed down them which does nothing other than make me look inproportionately large. My slippers are several years old, and the once glorious purple fluff which adorned them is slowly shedding. And tomorrow morning, no doubt, I'll most definitely not feel like running and come afternoon, the shoe dilemma will start... which shoes do you wear when it snows?
Still quite so picturesque?