I'm giving up smoking for the 17465th time. It's not going very well, hence the title of this post and the following mishmash of staccato, passive agressive sentences. There's a cold, hard, menacing glint in my eye. My fag-hand doesn't know what to do with itself, the max-strength nicotine gum is giving me a sore throat and my hair smells strange. Like, fresh. Ugh, I just shuddered involuntarily.
It's been one day.
To combat the gnawing sense of loss that accompanies ditching the cigs, I did my best to pull together an outfit that didn't feature a single leisurewear garment. Right on schedule, I experienced a massive attack of the 'I HATE YOU, WARDROBE' neuroses. Seriously, every single bloody item of clothing I own has magically revealed itself to be woven from 10% cotton, 90% crap. I'm sorely tempted to give the majority of it to the poor, unsuspecting charity shops around the corner.
How does one beat the bad clothes blues? Help needed.
Bowler hat - Primark
Cardigan - Lily Vintage in Chester
Dress - H&M
Belt - River Island
I was dangerously close to curling up into the foetal position and admitting defeat, but then remembered this no-fail cardi from Lily Vintage that I picked up in Chester earlier this year. Its fuzzy mohair beauteousness and jazzy splashes of colour enlivens even the 'pleh'-est of outfits in much the same way that a brick enlivens a dull floor (guess the reference, British TV fans. The winner gets a rake. There's another one for you...um.) This 'ere cream glittery H&M Christmas dress gave me a much-needed sparkle injection. Glitzy dresses - better than Prozac. I cheered up a treat, resisted the urge to set fire to the mountain of clothes left on my bedroom floor and went for falafel. MMM.
Betti Baudelaire xxx