A walk with a friend. Wine. Full moon. The pale shimmer of faint stars.
Topshop's Nevada lipstick and River Island's tee-shirt with pale-grey palms.
Champagne-coloured nailpolish with a hard-candy glitter finish. Silver stiletto heels. Baby-pink stiletto mules, with a perfect, pointed toe and a beautiful, trim bow (I leave this to your imagination).
A feather headband.
I imagine this with a white slouchy vest and low rise jeans.
New leaves on my favourite, glimmering green houseplant. I fed her with crushed eggshells, something I either heard or read about in passing from my dear Miss C.'s blog.
New journals. With crisp pages. And smooth ink pens with which to fill them.
The simultaneous arrival of this month's Vogue and ASOS magazine.
Watching the neighbourhood cats. And the neighbourhood birds. And nestling in the crook of the Man's arm at night, watching a documentary about poets and falling asleep to a reading from Wordsworth.
Happiness.
Topshop's Nevada lipstick and River Island's tee-shirt with pale-grey palms.
Champagne-coloured nailpolish with a hard-candy glitter finish. Silver stiletto heels. Baby-pink stiletto mules, with a perfect, pointed toe and a beautiful, trim bow (I leave this to your imagination).
A feather headband.
I imagine this with a white slouchy vest and low rise jeans.
New leaves on my favourite, glimmering green houseplant. I fed her with crushed eggshells, something I either heard or read about in passing from my dear Miss C.'s blog.
New journals. With crisp pages. And smooth ink pens with which to fill them.
The simultaneous arrival of this month's Vogue and ASOS magazine.
Watching the neighbourhood cats. And the neighbourhood birds. And nestling in the crook of the Man's arm at night, watching a documentary about poets and falling asleep to a reading from Wordsworth.
Happiness.
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