My mission to dress my bump without submitting to maternity wear continues with this blouse by Teatum Jones. I didn’t go to a lot of events at London Fashion Week, primarily because I’m six months pregnant and in no mood to waddle around the shows. Also, I don’t really have enough fashion week appropriate outfits to wear, but I felt confident in this top from TJ’s SS17 collection. I wore it with a pleated skirt from ASOS, which isn’t from their maternity range, but has a forgiving elasticated waist. I picked up these shoes from Topshop and they are neither practical or mumsy, which may make them an imprudent purchase. But just because I’m pregnant I don’t see why I should surrender my identity. I anticipate being the sort of mum who’ll rock up to the school gates in pink […]
In recent years I’ve become less bothered about trends; I know what suits me and I stick to it. If my look happens to be fashionable, then fine, but I certainly don’t bend my style around a flippant, passing trend. That being said, leopard print is a key look this season, but it’s also is a perennial classic that I’ve loved for years. I’m rather fond of this top by Y.A.S, although my husband thinks it looks like part of a Cirque du Soleil costume. I see what he’s saying, but I like it and that’s what counts. I’ve styled it with an old skirt from Zara (similar here) and even older boots from Carvela (similar here).
I was gutted when Prince died, not quite as sad as I was when David Bowie passed away, but still. Good music embeds itself in the soul and becomes an essential part of life’s journey. It has the power to to heal a broken heart and celebrate the good times. It’s as though the musician is singing directly to you, beaming straight into your emotional life. When the person who provided the music dies, you feel as though you’ve lost a friend. From Purple Rain to Kiss, Prince was the soundtrack of my teens and twenties. I bought this blouse in Dawn O’Porter’s brilliant vintage boutique, BOB. The colour and ruffles scream Prince, which pleases me greatly. It’s impossible to rock this little beauty without a spring in my step; I wore it out the other day with I Wanna be Your Lover cranked up high on my […]
There are certain items that make up the bed rock of a wardrobe, for most women the key pieces are jeans. For me, it’s pleated-skirts and chunky-heeled boots. Every season for the past four or five years, the midi pleated-skirt has been my go to item. This season, thanks to Alessandro Michele’s recent tour de force collections at Gucci, metallic pleated skirts are everywhere. I’ve been enjoying this gold number skirt from Topshop. I especially like mixing metallics with chunky knitwear. This tweed cape is a vintage score from ebay and my boots are from Carvella, I’ve had my eye on them for ages, I love a Stevie Nicks vibe.
There are certain looks that I return to again and again. It’s rather dull, but I find myself re-tracing my steps and wearing a variation of an old outfit. I’ve had this pleated skirt from Whistles for years and it was bang on-trend when I bought it. Now pleated midis are classic wardrobe staples, handy for work and the weekend. I’ve worn this guy with beaded vintage tops for the evening, or a crisp white shirt for meetings. Today I’ve teamed it with a blouse is from Negarin London, my favourite old tan belt from &Other Stories (similar here), platforms from Next (similar here) and a hat I bought recently from Whistles.
I’m not very good at dressing for the capricious British climate. Once spring has sprung I’m committed to to my warm-weather sartorial choices, even if the heavens open and I get drenched to the bone. This brolly was given to me by a friend of mine who found it at his office one rainy afternoon and walked home with it, despite the fact that he looked a right numpty with a little girl’s umbrella. I don’t think I fair much better, however at least the colours blend with my outfit. This skirt is an old favourite by Whistles (similar here) and I’m wearing a bikini top from Wildfox. My shoes are from ASOS and my sunglasses are by Karen Walker.