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…
Okay, so this is going to sound completely ridiculous, but I spent last week wearing nothing but Boden clothes and honestly? It was kind of a revelation. Not in like…
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’ve been conducting what might be the most ridiculous fashion experiment of my adult life, and my credit card statement is here to prove it. $580.47 on black tights in…
I’ve been thinking about Topshop a lot lately, which feels ridiculous since I work in finance and should probably have more pressing concerns than the collapse of a British retailer.…
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…
So last week I’m standing outside Jackson’s elementary school – my husband had an early meeting so I got drop-off duty – and I swear I counted at least six…
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…