Triplets

Took Black Céline to visit her chums at Selfridges: a rainbow of leathery gorgeousness.

The saleslady optimistically tried to get La to buy Black Céline and Blue Céline a red-trimmed sister. 

Although the rouge piping almost made La weep, it wasn’t gonna happen. 2017 is set to be a year of economic uncertainty, fronkly, and not the time to be supporting a family of pouting, selfie-obsessed Céline triplets. 

So far the Dumb Clothes pick of the trip is this bowy-sleeved lolly pink jacket. Thoughts? Mine was that I should have deployed the male JCC to do one of his fash-floor vomiting specials nearby.

Wandered through my favourite tube station, Westminster. It’s such a Death Star-esque, Bladerunnerish dystopian nightmare. 

Enjoyed the annual Ferris Bueller’s Day Off with best friend Furrgler. Miss that crazy bird. We’ve been Ferrising since we attached to each other like iron filings and a magnet in our first week of uni approximately 657 years ago. Our first Ferris saw us feast on my special guacamole (secret ingredient: bacon) at La Famiglia Trivialista’s homestead in the Bane of Bris, aged 17. We’ve come a long way in taste and budget. 

We partook of sticky. Who could resist when offered with such style? I swear old Brett Graham has a looks policy when hiring waiters. Every single one was DIVINE, but barely older than an embryo.

One of the Ledbury yummies was this slightly nipplish nibble. Festive and saucy all at once. 

Spotted this in someone’s front room while walking around the rented ‘hood. Can you see? A couple of Oscars and a BAFTA! Would kill to know who lives there. Obv no shrinking violet – the hardware’s clearly displayed for all passersby to see. No Emma Thompson “I keep mine in the loo” humility on Trevor Place. 

Love peeking into London lives.