I ramble…I know.
So let’s skip that bit and get straight to last week (where I hiked).
I’d like to go back to L.A. now please.
and luxe like this…
Those two boys (photo-bombers) in there are good friends I’ve known for nigh on 10 years. The one clutching the Goyard gives good instaglam. The other one, luxe-can’t-live-without, practically family! God love best friends eh!
Meanwhile, in other non-LA related news… Is it me or is British weather majorly bi-polar – like one minute London’s sub-tropical and the Chloe slides are on, I’m toying with a new bistro set, Mr. Luxe sizing up new Vilbrequins. Then boom… Downpours and down-right embarrassment.
Meter reader Mike witnessed a half naked ME cartwheeling across the lawn after the daybed derailed. Drowned rat. Dampened ego.
To think, only last week I was lugging my stack of Love mags away from the window for fear of fading, this week I’m getting up half an hour early to stick my head in a light box and cheer the f**k up. (sorry mum)
Most of you won’t know this but I’m trapped inside a skin condition we sufferers like to call pale person disease. I might want to look tanned and healthy, PPD doesn’t. I might want to lie out with Mr. Luxe on a sun lounger and not reek of Badger Balm spf 50 #scentofachild. PPD doesn’t. PPD enjoys rainy days, overcast afternoons and weekends with the hood up and the brolly on standby. Least someones happy.
Vigilante freckles go back to sleep, you’ve had your fun. Miss L.A.
