Okay, so there’s something that’s been bothering me for months now, and I need to work through it with you because honestly, it’s making me question everything I thought I…
There’s this specific type of British suffering that kicks in around day three of a heatwave, you know? Like, the first day everyone’s posting sunset pics and “finally some proper…
Okay, so here’s something that might make me sound like a total fashion fraud – I’ve never owned a single piece from Burberry. Not even a keychain. I mean, I’m…
So this is probably going to sound like the most pretentious thing ever, but I spent three months asking every French fashion person I could get hold of which British…
You know that moment when someone says “let’s meet for drinks” and you have absolutely no idea if you’re headed to a gastropub with sticky floors or some wine bar…
You know what my most vivid British beach memory is? It’s not some Instagram-worthy moment of golden sand and sunshine. It’s me at age eight on a family trip to…
I’ll never forget the mortification of stepping out of the car at my first proper countryside weekend, looking down at my spotless white Allbirds, then looking up at everyone else’s…
You know what I love about British beach holidays? The sheer bloody-minded optimism of it all. Every single time I pack for a coastal trip, I find myself throwing the…
I was fourteen when I first understood the specific type of mortification that only a department store beauty counter can deliver. My mum had dragged me to House of Fraser…
Okay, so I need to come clean about something embarrassing. Until about a year ago, I was that person who packed like I was moving to a new country every…