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why maybe i should start avoiding my haven

LIfe is hectic right now. This morning was the first time in about a month I hadn't been woken up involuntarily (alarm clock, shaken body). Nevertheless, I woke up at 9. My body clock is that unused to a lie-in. This is the main reason why I haven't been blogging, or writing for leisure, or doing anything else creative, because when I'm not working or dashing or something, I'm lying in a zombie-like state on Facebook or some other unproductive activity.

Anyway that's not really related to this post, apart from the fact that it means I have also basically stopped any semblance of 'creative shopping', which I see as combing through vintage and charity shops, or spending hours online looking for the best deal, or wandering across unexpected jewels at a market or boutique. It just requires too much effort.
But maybe my bank account would be better off I made shopping for myself a little harder. Instead, this past month, I have only been to the shops twice, and both times I could not be bothered to actually have to move from shop to shop so I just went to Selfridge's. That was today and the day of my last post. Surely that in itself has to be some testament to the ability of this shop to inspire me, or something. Never mind that I cannot afford 99.9999% of the items in this store. Surprisingly, considering its elite image, there remains a 0.00001% (I think the maths there is right...) of items which are exactly what you'd find on the high street, only they're laid out more beautifully, with more helpful staff, and air conditioning, and toilets, and space, and food.

Hence perhaps why I can't help but find that one thing I've been looking for for years on end every time I go. Last time, it was the holy grail of trench coats.

My trusty trench in action, marching and protesting its little heart out last Saturday.

And today, Minnetonkas. Overpriced, maybe, but when there are only three pairs left and two of them are your two possible sizes and one of them fits perfectly, and last year's summer shoes all fell apart/got lost (don't ask), you can't really say no, can you?

But now I think it's time to stop. I seem to have confused buying clothes for the summer and saving money for the summer. Plus, I was meant to write an essay today.

haven

Holly Golightly: I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I'm not sure where that is but I know what it is like. It's like Tiffany's.

Paul Varjak: Tiffany's? You mean the jewelry store.

Holly Golightly: That's right. I'm just CRAZY about Tiffany's!

Is Holly Golightly a selfish, frivolous, materialistic high-class escort? Maybe. Is she impossibly beautiful, slim and glamorous? Yes. But when she comes out with words like the quote above, I can't help but relate to her. That's how I felt today as I stepped out of the windy streets and into the warmth of Selfridges. My yellow paper bag may have contained Topshop, but with its magic powers I could have asked to try on a million pound diamond necklace if I wanted to.

librarian

For some reason, boys always seem to tell me that I'm dressed like a librarian, and contrary to what they are trying to do, I don't get annoyed, because to me it's a compliment. I love books. I am going to spend three or more years studying exclusively books. Why wouldn't I want to be paid to live in a library? I take great pride in my tortoiseshell glasses, shirts and brogues Still, I also think it's a pretty stupid thing to say, because I don't know any librarians who actually dress like this, and I don’t think there is a librarian uniform, but if there were one it would probably consist more of brightly coloured coats, Marks and Spencers v-neck jumpers and calf-length skirts.

When I stumbled across this website (appropriately titled 'The Literary Gift Company, it reminded me of the book group I went to which refused to be named 'book club', instead calling itself 'Literary Society') it definitely wasn't to my usual 'librarian nerd' taste. I like classy, not crafty. But the true non-ironic nerd deep inside me was charmed by



and



(actually nearly cried when I saw that this one was out of stock)

and



and my personal favourite....



UPDATE - EVERY SECOND I DON'T OWN THIS MY HEART BREAKS A LITTLE BIT MORE:

elemental

Most adults I know don't like to wear yellow gold. It's quite a polarising colour. Is it an elegance thing? Is yellow too loud, colourful and trashy? Is silver more tasteful? I personally am attracted to anything shiny and sparkly, and gold tends to sparkle more.

I also don't have an issue with mixing metals, which I know a lot of people do. Life's too short to care that the silver buckles on your shoes clash with your gold earrings and the brass zip on your bag.

But to me, the important thing is balance. It's difficult to articulate because it's quite a visual and often instinctive thing, but sometimes the colours just feel wrong. Those last five words took about ten minutes to type, no joke. I was typing then backspacing then typing then backspacing, trying to think of specific examples, then trying to come up with a general rule, which just serves to prove that I would never make a very good fashion writer. Anyway. It's just nice to have options. A gold watch you can swap the silver one out for if it 'feels wrong'. Multiple bags and shoes with different buckles. I'm all good on that front. My wardrobe is plentiful. Like I said, I don't discriminate.

On the jewellery front, I had a gap. A long silver necklace shaped hole in my life. This christmas I finally caved after lusting after a gold necklace with my initial on it since I first saw it approximately three years ago. I was (and still am) in love. My mum couldn't understand why I was so desperate for a new necklace when I had just bought this one. But accessories aren't boyfriends. I also just bought a pair of heels after obsessing over the heel issue for even longer, and I'm already feeling a flat-shaped hole in my life too.

In a moment of shopping serendipity a beautiful but overpriced necklace was reduced by 75% and I grabbed it. My friend loved it too. I felt bad that I was taking away something so beautiful from her life. So I proposed we get friendship necklaces. Only, she likes her jewellery as loud as possible. She got the gold version.

It feels ironic that in a post where I struggled more than ever to say what I wanted to, and ended up rambling on for quite a while to manage it, I could have just said everything I wanted to with some photos. So for those of you who don't like reading (in which case I've just realised you'll never get to read this), the above post in pictures:

My cork noticeboard is meant to be for important pieces of paper, but it seems to have been invaded by necklaces and a huge map of Snowdonia.

problem?

Today, while adding my newest purchase to the nail polish box, I decided it would be fun examine its contents and to count all my polishes.

My first reaction was wondering if maybe I had a problem. I decided that I did. But the definition of this problem evolved from

I have far too many nail polishes

to

They're all the same colour! I have two true reds, two dark reds, two pastel purples, two greys and two hot pinks. Why?

to

Most of them are probably/maybe dried out anyway

to

I don't have any deep pinks, or light blues, or dark greens, or polish with a crackle effect. I need to buy more nail polish.

Yeah, I think we need to go back to problem number one.

EDIT: so after I posted this photo, I realised there were two more polishes that weren't in the nail polish box but the make-up box. THERE MAY BE MORE.

EDIT EDIT: weird that it happens to be a blog post about nail polish that has inspired so much thought, anyway, I decided to take a trip down memory lane and came across this post from 2008. Back in the day when I thought I had an impressive collection. Oh, the innocence.

painful gain?

A couple of months ago, after a particularly rough night out, I woke up on Sunday morning and decided to stop drinking. That following Friday, however, I was invited to a pretty fancy party. I had nothing to wear and I was trying to resist the temptations of liquor. But then I found a nice shimmery gold dress in a local boutique and so I did my hair, put on my make-up and decided to go. Then it was time to choose the shoes. This part was not difficult. I only had one pair of heels, and this outfit and venue demanded heels.

So I wore my gold dress with sparkly blue heels. No-one looks at your feet anyway, right?

Maybe so, but my feet were the only thing on my mind that night as I danced away, alcohol-free, and the pain in my feet steadily grew worse and worse. Here's a few things I learnt that evening:

1) Dancing in heels hurts when your nerve endings are not numbed by alcohol.
2) Drunk people do not have the courtesy to avoid stepping on your toes.
3) Drunk people are not funny when you are sober.
4) The ground is actually really cold if you try to walk home shoeless in October, sober.

After that night, two things happened:

1) I stopped wearing heels.
2) I started drinking again.

So for the past few months I have been stomping around in boots and brogues, happily dancing away while still painfully conscious that this outfit would look a lot better with heels. I have spent hours scouring internet websites and sale racks for a suitable pair, but with feet that hate heels as much as mine, yet a mind with a taste for spindly stilettos, this search has been fruitless.

Finally, I found the perfect pair. They were approximately double my budget, and they were in the sale. But they were also beautiful and I bought them. The shoe gods must have been getting fed up of my unladylike footwear, because they blessed me with a sales lady who is not very good at mathematics, and further reduced the shoes' price.

I love them. And they are called 'Carbonara'. Be still, my beating heart.



There's just a slight problem. A problem entitled 'the bunion and extra half size of my left foot'. A problem which squishes and cramps my abnormally long left toes. But, I've done my research, and the luxuriously soft leather of these shoes seems perfectly suited to a shoe-stretching spray. I could also use the spray on the slightly too small toebox of my other beautiful left shoe. If that doesn't work, I will fill myself up with some vodka and brave the pain.