Look #1 | Ankara Shirt

ankara top ankara top Contrary to the Friday mood, I felt like dressing up for Weekend Eve. Normally by this time of the week, I'd have ditched the boots for trainers and the tailored trousers for ripped jeans but y'know I just felt like not looking like one avocado short of a (hipster) brunch.

Shout out to Julia Sarr Jamois for the ankara print blouse which I scored at a celeb jumble sale a few weeks ago (not as bad as it sounds). I hardly ever wear printed things, but there'll always be special place in my heart for African print, vibrantly captivating and oh so delicate all at the same time.


The Three Sixty | Being a Graduate

Last year, during the summer when I was unemployed, aimless and rather prone to bouts of acute sadness, I had the wonderful idea of starting a podcast! I asked my mate Lydia to co-present and she was possible even more excited than me, which was like, pretty damn excited.

It's been fun thinking of topics, branding and just recording but it's the most recent episode that I'm most proud of. I had the idea of including little vox pops from my mates, which I had to edit and cut down. It sounds pretty good too in my humble(brag), opinion.

Listen to it here and subscribe if you're that way inclined.


Look at This #1

Quite like the title suggests, here's some pretty interesting stuff I've come accross online in the past few weeks. If this week's reading were to have a theme, it would be 'Good God, Aren't Your Twenties Bloody Awkward, Eh?'

I'm not in any way adverse to the idea of love, being in a relationship and all that jazz that comes with it - it fact I admire it. Yes, from the concrete grey walls of my icy tower on my desert island population one (me) I can admit to being mushy at times. But there's nothing more annyoing than the condescending coos of coupled-up folk and their 'you'll find the one soon babe'-ing ringing around your ears. This article reminds me how fun being single is. It is. I swear.

"Being single is a gift because it means you can do really annoying things, like put a dirty plate just outside your door so you tread on it when you go to toilet in the middle of the night. It means you can block the drain with your hair, or put a tampon in in your bedroom. You can be as disgusting as you like in your own space because someone whose idea of womanhood stems from his home counties mum isn't sharing it with you."

I've always been a lover of the arts, even before I knew what the Arts were. Reading, writing, acting in plays and the like were all elements of my childhood I loved to indulge in. Now, in my adult years, I feel as though I'm simultaneous viewing and taking part in the shift towards more representation in the art. Being of Nigerian extraction and identifying as a Londoner through and through, conversations surrounding race, identity and culture are not just welcome but necessary.

"Being very deliberate in the documentation of our lives and art helps us to make better sense of ourselves and how we navigate the world and all of its systems. We’re rooted in our identities but in no way are we restricted by it."

If it looks like an adult, smells like an adult and sounds like an adult, it must be an adult, right? Wrong. A very pathetic generation of people have weasled our way into popular society and are living a perpetual lie. For we are not adults, we are Todults (a mix of toddler and adult I literally just made up on the spot, go me) who bear resemblance to adults but in reality are no better than adolescents with unrestricted access to money, booze and recreational drugs. Wonderful.

"If you are 30-plus and have more than two friends who you’ve known for more than 15 years, then you’re doing pretty fucking good. Don’t blow it with those gems, and don’t worry about making any more close friends because between work, trying to have sex sometimes and squeezing out time to read books and catch up on YouTube clips, who has the goddamn time? Plus – and this cannot be overemphasised – the older you get, the more you realise how many people deserve to be disappeared and possibly vapourised."

By now, it's pretty clear that white men kind of get the best start in life. So what happens when you're 'the Other' or in my case one of the Otherests - black and female, yay intersectionality! Well, you have a pretty different view of the world. This lovely write up challenges the Feminists Are Witches crowd to a re-think.

"As a white man, I’m lucky enough to be in a position where it has literally never crossed my mind that a woman may one day abuse, assault or kill me because of my gender. Yet according to Women’s Aid, an average of two women a week are killed by a current or former male partner in the UK. And according to the Office for National Statistics, approximately 85,000 women are raped on average in England and Wales every year.
Being white, I’m also in a position where it's unlikely a Police officer will end up killing me after they've taken me into custody. For some reason, I have a better chance of being employed. And if, by chance, I was to get into a biker gang brawl, riot, or go on a racist shooting spree, it’s much less likely that the media will dissect my whiteness and its sociological significance, or call me a terrorist or "thug"."

Happy reading! x


Bank Holiday Weekend

Here's what I looked like this Bank Holiday Weekend:

Bank Holiday Weekend

It was a Saturday, and Jennifer had gotten brand new braids done near where I live, so we decided to meet up for a late lunch.

Bank Holiday Weekend

We decided on Arabica in Borough Market. I was a little late, so Jennifer tried to get us a table. The lady at the door declined and said it would be a 2 hour wait, which was strange as the restaurant wasn't full. She also said it wouldn't be possible to do a booking as they were all taken up. Jennifer left, called the restaurant and the smiling voice at the end of the line chirped that they did have free tables, she could take one at four if she wished? Jennifer decided not to, as I was still home and hadn't gotten to leaving yet. Unaware of all this, I wanted to make up for my tardiness and booked a table online for quarter past four.

Very strange. Nonetheless, we decided not to let this ruin our lunch and we got to ordering


We ate our way through what felt like the entire menu. My fave dish had to be the clams with giant couscous.
Arabica Arabica Arabica Arabica

We were so stuffed by the end of our meal. Lovely.


Packed Lunch | (Sort of) Thai Green Curry

Due to my long term struggle with Acute Severe Delusions of Grandeuritis, I've had to look at better ways of being able to afford my life, as eating at restaurants 3 times a week, purchasing tickets to That Really Cool Thing That I Absolutely Cannot Miss, and the o(ften)dd Asos splurge really isn't all that sustainable. 

Enter, the packed lunch. I've always made some sort of attempt at packing a lunch, but it's usually what ever left overs I find knocking about in the fridge. After one sorry experience that had me chucking some miserable grey matter in the bin and legging it to Itsu to bury my face in a vegetable potsu, I thought I had better try harder at this lunch malarkey. 

I do love a good warm lunch, so no doubt a spicy curry dish would hit the spot.

Vegetable Thai Curry Vegetable Thai Curry Vegetable Thai Curry Vegetable Thai Curry Vegetable Thai Curry

I used sea salt, tumeric, Chinese Five Spice, Curry leaves, coriander seeds to season. Coconut oil to fry, and coconut milk for the curry-ness.

As you can see, this wasn't a strict curry recipe as I pretty much stuck to what I had in the fridge save for a few bits I had to buy. It's actually pretty good and does a great job and lubricating the godforsaken husks of joy that brown rice grains are.