Saturday, 14 February 2009

Girls of the world who can carry off red lipstick.
Don't listen to the girls of the world who tell you:
a.) That no one can carry it off.
b.) That you specifically can't carry it off.
c.) That only those types of women can carry it off.

Life's too short to not wear red lipstick, bloody high heels, tutu-skirts, glitter, flowers, pink.
Especially if the reason for not wearing them is that you'll be called one of those types of women.

Wednesday, 11 February 2009

after some calculations, i have decided

... that I prove, almost mathematically, that I am Carrie Bradshaw.
Down to mannerisms, the laptop by the window, the whirly tutu skirts and the curly hair that I always want part brown, part gold, all wild.

But here is the twist:
I am also, equally, a hippie at heart. Who scorns Carrie Bradshaw. Who wants an allotment to grow her own vegetables and who is actually happiest sitting cross legged doing interviews in a field.

Like I said before: Versus is a dirty word.

Sunday, 8 February 2009

Promise to self

Dear Self.
I promise.
I will NOT ever try to fit in to get ahead.


Explanation later. I've watched Sex and the City, I've had a glorious afternoon out with a friend, I've walked around drinking coffee and eating croissant in the pale winter sun. And now it's 11 pm and I have yet to prepare for a huge meeting tomorrow that I haven't even started thinking about.
No matter how grown up my house, I fear I am still very much on a studenty schedule.

On another note:
Wearing a man's shirt is surprisingly... I don't know the word. Unbuttoned just so, with a string of (fake) pearls, a tiny black woollen jumper and dark skinny jeans and short boots. I thought boyfriend's shirts were off-limits for reasons of frumpiness. But no, not so frumpy after all. I like immensely.