{diary} rsvp… Luxe

saturday1

Winter 2013.

So far so busy

I’ve had a pre-party season panic.

Boo decided to dine on the desk calendar – chewed it up, spat out the ring-bind. It threw Mr. Luxe and I into a spin. Choosing recycled paper over peppered sirloin is bad enough. But paper penned with all our party plans. A luxe liberty!!

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Boo Who??

We salvaged a list. Sort of.

That was Tuesday.

Mr. Luxe has been trawling the inbox looking for RSVP clues ever since. He’s still searching now. Detective Luxe. He’s no Sherlock. Shit!

 

And last night I decided to brainstorm. I wish I hadn’t bothered. My beloved bijoux organiser is bulging .
It’s Smythson. It’s ostrich skin. It’s stretched.

Mr. Luxe. He’s stressed.

iCloud logged him out. We’ll be lucky to make it to spring/summer 14 at this rate. He’s pebble dashed the coffee table with party post-its and save the date scribbles.

Dinner parties dominate. Great.

And I’ve somehow doubled booked Choo’s to 2 do’s. I blame Boo.

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Luxe has a lot going on…

For the next ten weekends;
I’ll be luxing legless, avoiding vol-au-vents and hopelessly hungover.

No time for ‘me’ time..

This winter won’t be for the faint heart, or the weak wallet.

I’ve a lot of luxe looks to bang out before Christmas.

I’ve done my revision! Searching for catwalk copy ensembles. Something sensational. Something in Vogue.

I’m a serial shopper.. #selfier

 From now til New Years you’ll find Mr. Luxe and I pounding the pavements of SW3 in panic… Him funding. Me finding. Festive Luxe is about to get frantic

The retail highs – more likely high drama

Boo’s mid morning mooch – more a midnight sprint.

Luxe loving – lift off, then leaving in ten for a lash tint

Even last night I was luxing online and maxing out the Amex in a Fendi frenzy.

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This season I’m placing faith in the Prima Donna of the party circuit. The Grande Dame of the dance floor. The Little Black Dress.

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If LBD is my BFF…

Meet Manolos.

manolo

They’re my flavour of the month.

No more neon, for now.
I’m coveting shimmering sparkly accents. The party ensemble got pimped.

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Mr. Luxe doesn’t know it yet but I’ve been up all morning pinteresting all things shiny sparkly glittery. We’re pencilled in for a whip around Westfield.

I’ll be knee deep in croc skin clutch candy by noon.

Fashionista luxe doesn’t have time for sleep.

Mr. Luxe – doesn’t have a choice

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