Therapy.

I didn't even want to go.

A bad hairdressers' experience and renewed feelings of rejection had me in pathetic flood of tears the whole afternoon and all I wanted to do was dive into bed and wallow in my angst. But I'd promised my mum I'd go: it was our annual tradition to do the Harrods January sales. We bonded over cooing at luxury bags and picking new scents. So off I went, my face wobbly from holding back tears. I stroked premium leather totes and people-watched to my heart's content. With 30 minutes left until closing, we trekked to shoe heaven all the way up on fifth, and there they were.

'Ahhh' I recognised the shape right away. Sleek and understated, I pulled them off the shelf and tried them on. Perfect (well actually, a tiny bit snug but anything can be broken in if you truly believe in yourself). I checked the price tag and couldn't believe it - £49.

Forty-nine shitting pounds.

Having recovered from my mild heart-attack, I strode right up to the still and bought them (with a further 10%). By this time, I was elated. Obviously, my hair still looked shitty and I was still nursing a sore heart, but by God, I just bought a pair a damn sexy boots and I was happy. Even if it was for a little bit.

x

*Retail therapy is totally a thing. It's an unsustainable thing, but it's still a thing. 

Travel| Amsterdam Day 2

Day two started off sore and slightly tender, most definitely due to our terribly smart decision to go out partying with less that 3 hours sleep between us. We were on holiday, and we bravely took on the self-appointed challenge to play the eager tourist and the hedonistic thrill-seeker. It was pretty impossible to walk around Amsterdam without happily snapping a photo of every bloody canal I saw - before I knew it, my camera was packed with semi-identical photos of terribly unarty shots of waterways lined with bikes. Whilst it was still freezing, the sunshine was welcome, and we felt as though we had fallen (hazily) into a postcard.




Patting ourselves on the back for our amazing efforts at being nailing the Eager-Tourist-Hedonist title, we settled down for a snack at a local cafe. Frankly, I refuse to call it breakfast if there are no eggs, and brunch if avocados aren't present. What can I say, I'm a woman with principles. It was tasty all the same and we inhaled our crepes at lightening speed.



My girl Yewa, with a rainbow on her face... she's literally magic. The love we had for one another was off the scale by this point, we all felt like we were on a massive, adult slumber party.



After a visit to the Amsterdam sign, the Rembrandt museum and losing ourselves in the Amsterdam backstreets, we finally found our way to Wolvenstraat 23 restaurant. It was in the 9 Streets part of Amsterdam and we were promptly told by the bubbly girls next to us that it was rare for tourists to be in this part of town. Our chests swelled with how insufferably cool we were and we ordered some grub.



The decor was decadent yet sophisticated at the same time, as was the food. the cocktails were just right and that night I chose to be a proper grown up and decide my go-to cocktail would be the Moscow Mule. The service was absolutely abysmal though, and after waiting 20 minutes between each individual dish to arrive per person (we ordered them to come at once), having our re-taken 3 times, the waitress imply we ate too much ("usually people order 3 dishes and share it, never this much food") and having an extra dish added to our bill that we didn't ask for, we were pretty jaded. The front of house gushed her apologies and offered us a free cocktail each, and we immediately forgave them. Well, I did anyways. What can I say, I'm a woman with few principles.

Bellies full and slightly tipsy we made off home to plan our second night out on the town.

 

New In: black, or grey.

American Apparel knit twentyish pounds, Gap cashmere jumper 30 quids and Whistle roll-neck 14 pounds

Shout out to premium fabrics for knitwear. Shove your polyester/acrylic knits where the sun don't shine, I'm wrapping up in (discounted, sale-price) jumpers.*

*No way in hell I'd be able to afford this if the prices weren't slashed all the way down

Galentine's Day.

I'm not really one for celebrating Valentine's Day; I've never really actually had a Valentine, so February 14th has always been a day like any other for me. The chances of it falling on a Saturday this year meant I got to make plans with the girls for a day out and risk the inevitable onslaught of a London heaving with overly amorous couples.

Seriously, everyone was in a pair. As was I, with my BFF4LYF, Cherish. We hit the Black History Archives in Brixton, which had an amazing exhibition on called Staying Power, a collection of photographs by Black British artists depicting lives of Black Britons since the mid-20th Century. I'm a boring history nerd as well and a hopeless obsessive of arts and culture so this was right up my street. It's a small showing (there's a bigger one at the V&A which opened this week) but it's still worth popping down I reckon.

After that, Chez and I ambled around Brixton Market.

Afterwards, we met Jen and Yewa at Trade cafe in Spitalfields. We lamented over Hotbox being closed until 6 (we arrived at 3) and unanimously decided on Meat Mission in Hoxton.

This is me by the way. I feel like I post more photos of other people than myself on my here bloggy blog.

I wasn't too fussed about food (which was decent), I just wanted cocktails (which were amazing) and laughs (which were loud and obnoxious). And indeed, 2 cocktails later, I had joined Tinder, swiped left on what seems like half the male population of London but still managed to get a few matches.

It was a perfect Galentine's for me, I honestly have no energy to mooch around about something that isn't there... there'll be some time in the future when I have someone to share Valentine's Day/Birthday's/Fat Days/Cramp Days/Duvet Days with, so right now, I'm gonna sit tight and Tinder my way through my mid-twenties.*

*Honestly, it's so fun. It's basically a game. I swear.

Amsterdam: Day 1

By the time our planned trip to Amsterdam came around, all of us were aching to leave London. We were tired, heartbroken and stressed out and the shiny New Years' Gleam had completely worn off. Our flight was at 7 am from London Southend Airport (so friggin far), which meant I had to get up depressingly early.

We arrived in Amsterdam in the morning but our Air BnB apartment wasn't ready, so we had to wile away time in the area. This was needlessly hard (places open so damn late). Our place was on Hammerleweg which was in such a good area, so after eating a sub-par brunch (if there was no avocado, it didn't happen) we traipsed back out to look around.

We popped into this vintage shop and Yewa bought some sexy Desert boots. I bought nothing because EasyJet was holding me by the throat with their overly strict baggage allowance.

It was so picturesque, but I wasn't yet in love with the place. And it was bloody freezing. Also, me with my new camera (!) cue me taking 500 million photos of everything under the sun.

By this point, we were gasping for a drink (6 hours into our city break and no alcohol??!?) and we found this ridiculously cute pub on the corner.

Jen went for a white beer and the rest of us went for Gluhwein which hit the spot. Warm AND alcoholic? Yes, yes. It warmed me right up and made me pleasantly tipsy.

We headed back to our apartment for chicken and chorizo pasta (which we ate for the next 3 days, because we couldn't afford to buy more food) and lined our stomach for our first night out in the 'Dam. 

Jacquie x