The sun has decided to man the fuck up and poke his little face through the clouds for the past two days, and I've finally been able to heave a massive sigh of relief and take a breather now that 90% of the work I've been piddling my pants over is out of the way. Rejoice!
This meant I was able to snap some style post pics. I know the 'but it's raaaiiinnning' excuse is tired and lame, but honestly - there is not A SINGLE DECENT PLACE to take a blog-suitable shot in my charming but ever-so-slightly tatty little flat. I've been waiting, camera in hand and foot impatiently tapping, for a sunny day so I could showcase my purchase of the year.
I do not say this lightly.
Look at them...LOOK AT THEM!!! These are the trousers I've been waiting for my entire life. They are my Ones (don't tell Oli). I'm not a massive fan of high street shopping - as if you couldn't already tell - but these cropped, tailored, floral and paint-spattered H&M beauts were so far up my street they were practically knocking on my door and inviting themselves in for a cuppa.
I'm not sure how seasonally-appropriate these lads actually are and I'm still not entirely convinced by the whole winter florals-and-pastels malarkey but I can't hide from the fact that when I slip these jazzy trews on in the morning, life just seems a bit brighter. Well-deserved BOOM, H&M.
Jumper - Prefab second hand
Blouse - chaz shop
Shoesies - George at Asda
So I guess it's pretty apparent how enamoured I am with my statement purchase for this semester (student loans only stretch so far), but I could only handle the saccharine-sweet pastelmania for so long before I started feeling queasy every time I looked in the mirror.
The antidote was lurking, as it often does, in the menswear section of Primark where Oli and I discovered it on a routine boring sock shop. I'd all but vowed to never buy from a high street retailer again after the disappointing autumn/winter crop until my dream jumper literally jumped out and punched me full force in the face. Ok, maybe not literally. But it may as well have done.
THE BREAKFAST CLUB?! A still from one of my all-time favourite films featuring the cast looking suitably insouciant plastered onto a jumper of not-totally-tragic quality for just £12? Get in. Pastel induced nausea - neutralised. (Crap Instagram picture a result of another torrential downpour, boo.)
Next time - why high-waisted woolly Nan-slacks are God's gift to womankind.