An end, of sorts

I know I have said couuuntless times that this year would be the year of no more topshop, h and m and zara, and more jigsaw, toast and whistles (when they have sales on, obvooo), but didn't for one second think it would be this easy to stick to. On Friday, R and I hit Topshop in celebration of the fact that she had finished and we had a lovely garden/cocktail/friends/sunshiney event sort of thing to go to, but she had nothing to wear. I wasn't looking for anything, but was definitely expecting various things to just magically turn up as they always seem to. And yet nothing, and I mean NOTHING did. Everything felt cheap, looked like it belonged on a 16 year-old, and just was deeply, deeply 'un-me'. The one high point of the shop was that for the first time in 3 years I could actually fit into a pair of trousers there, which was rather fun and involved alot of shrieking and strange 'wahooo wahoo we are REUNITED, you have lost 2 stone, you can fit into topshop size 14 not that you EVEN CARE' dancing in the changing room. R couldn't really believe it. 'But you ALWAYS find something in topshop' she said, looking puzzled and slightly lost. And I always used to. Something which didn't quite fit, something which didn't quite work, but which zipped up, which was all i really cared about for most of last year. Because none of the clothes I loved, which were patiently waiting at home stuffed in my bottom drawer, would zip up. So I bought unflattering tea dresses from topshop and made alot of noise about buying lots of them, hoping that people would fail to notice me and notice the clothes and the false 'fabulousness oh i love to BUY things I am like the CARRIE OF OXFORD, so happy with all my THINGS oh yes oh yes but PLEASE DON'T NOTICE WHAT IS GOING ON UNDERNEATH THIS BECAUSE IT IS A VERY DIFFERENT STORY' instead. It feels so wonderful to be wearing my old clothes again, the ones I really love and bought because I loved them, rather than because they fitted.

Last week other R and I cleared out my entire wardrobe. There are currently 3 bin bags filled with things waiting to be taken to the charity shop. I still have plenty of clothes - we played the 'what would you wear to...' game and every scenario was catered for, which is both impressive and sliightly embarassing. Everything in my wardrobe make me feel lovely, light, happy and confident, and anything that made me feel even slightly squirmy was immediately chucked. My mother is over the moon, Daddy was completely puzzled by the whole process - he kept popping his head round the door at various stages and just sighing, whilst R (who at times I fear he loves more than me) told him firmly that 'the piles are all part of the process!!It won't look like this when I've finished with her!!', but I digress - and I feel like it was the perfect ending to my weight loss journey (ACCCCKKKKKKK criiiiinge, BUT THERE IS NO OTHER WAY TO PUT IT..). Obviously, the journey isn't over - I am not going back to the daily chocolate bars, the drinking, the cheesy chips or the daily croissants, but I feel I have got to a place where I feel safe, happy and ready for..er...action. As it were..

Xxxx

Home sweet...

Well. Being home is odd. I missed Paris as soon as the Eurostar pulled out, in direct contrast to my last few days there when I couldn't really wait to leave. I must have had a hideous face on during my cab ride across London, because my cabbie simply stated exactly what I was feeling 'Its not Paris, is it love?'. Non. It most certainly is not. Hampshire in full summer bloom is admittedly lovely, my parents are on brilliant form, the girls are slowly trickling home (for our last summer ever all together, for the majority of them have now graduated and have jobs..its beyond strange), and all is, ostensibly, well with my world. But I feel like I've taken a step backwards. I haven't, of course, because this year 'changed me', 'made me better' etc etc blah blah ad infinitum, but still, going from living alone in one of the most bustling districts of a captial city to living 20 minutes from the nearest sleepy exceedingly middle-class small town is quite a jump. Still, London is but an hour away, and there are plenty of fun things coming up in the next few weeks to keep me busy - various 21sts, a mini-break to Rome, another fun-filled trip up to Oxford... I suppose the one conclusion I have come to after a week back here is this -


So that is at least one thing sorted for my future... Xxxx

Back to the vintage

This post is for the love of of Parisian life, darling S, who has saved my year abroad from slipping into 'potentially one of the most miserable years of my life' and turned it upside down into 'the most awesome year of my life', mainly due to the fact that she understands me completely, knows me far too well, has brilliant taste in television, hobbies, art, music, clothes, and the best sense of humour ever. She can also cook the best roasted vegetables i have ever tasted. In short, she is completely wonderful and I would now be completely lost without her. So without further ado, here is a list of some vintage shops I have visited as a lady of leisure that she hasn't been able to make it to. None of them are as cheap as the classic ones in the Marais - fripe star, coiffure etc.. But I think they are better, in terms of their selection, layout etc etc etc.

Metro Etienne Marcel -

Kiliwatch
Episode (both on Rue Tinquetonne ) - both vair trendy sort of urban outfitters style places - i got my perfect white and green fifties sundress from episode, adn the staff where wonderfully friendly.
Allison et Sacha (Rue Etienne Marcel) - it looks like one of those cheapy shitty shops full of japanesey tat but oh truuust me it isnt - rack upon rack of perfect liberty print blouses, plenty of dresses and skirts too.

Metro St Paul -
Noir Kennedy (Rue Roi de Sicile) - The same kind of idea as Kiliwatch - handpicked trend-driven quality vintage pieces, in a very kooky environment (old red telephone boxes as changing rooms, coffins in the window...). Surprisingly friendly staff.

Metro Bastille - Come on Eiline (Rue des Taillandiers). A bit of a walk, but very much worth it. The top floor is filled with reasonably priced designer treasures - mint-condition YSL smoking jackets for 150 euros for example, and then you descend the stairs... to vinatge HEAVEN. A huge cellar filled with black tie dresses, decent quality coats, blazers, skirts... One of those rare places that lives up to its reputation.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I don't want to leave.

Xxx