It’s been busy busy busy here at the Wordporium. Los pod colleagues and La have been squeezing important words out like a bunch of egg-laying hens.
But today, my words fly off into the ether and la work here is done. Or I should say then it’s back to just la normal grind of producing words with far fewer material ramifications for the share portfolios of Wide Brown Land citizens.
So today, la cloak of seriousness is to be shed for what this blog does best – superficiality, surface and frippery.
Yup, it’s time for some fash. And today, it’s all about Mary.
Here I am in my much-teasured Dorchester blouse by l’amazing Mary Katrantzou. Sadly, these days every two-bit starlet harbouring dreams of starring in her own sex tape is frocking up in Mares, but La’s fanhood goes back a long, looooong way. Like, 2.5 years or something. (That sound fash enough?!)
Because I am Mary’s BFF on Facebook, I’ve been flicking through her latest collection from London Fash Week, and, boy, does that girly know her way around a digi-print.
We love Mary here beneath los dusty rafters* of Palazzo Trivialista.
We also love Emma Cook — she’s a whiz with a digi too. How gorgeous is this summer holiday silky top? Thing about a fab digi is that it does so much more than merely protect one’s modesty.
And how cool would your loin fruits think you were if you got about in a silk sharky tunic?
Maybe it says something about my predatory, perpetually starving loinies that they would really dig me in this. Maybe your Junior Cost Centres are more the panda/koala digi-print-types. Each to their own.
To do my Dorchester justice I’ve strapped on some Bionda Castanas, seconds sold to me über cheap by my other fash bestie, Natalia (the Castana in Bionda Castana).
Srsly l’am so, so tall in these shoes, I feel like an all-towering, all-powerful deity. Obviously pretty much how my six-foot-one chum Bateman’s Bay feels 24/7.
Meeting Batemans this afternoon for a drink at one of Justin Hemmes’s gaffs, Palmer & Co. Does that man now own every single watering hole in the Harbour City? Feels like it. But he gives good mojito, so we’ll suffer on.
“Triv, what happened to your abstinence and sino-sludge
starvation cleanse regimen?” I hear you ask. More on that later. Suffice to say, L’am no longer a contender for Red Star Weight Loss Superstar of the Week.
Happy Thursday x
* Oops, La accidentally typed “farters”. La keyboard is obviously onto La Poocha Trivialista, Diggers’s, dirty, stinky secret. I promise we’ll take him to the vet. Soon.