She awakes in a slight haze, the remnants of her overly social Saturday. She has slumbered through breakfast as usual, but is eagerly anticipating her Sunday routine. After stumbling over last night’s towering gladiator heels and slipping on her black knit bodycon dress, she finally manages to reach the bathroom. She glances into the large mirror and expertly smudges the remaining eyeliner bordering her thick lashes. She proceeds to revive her slept in hair using an excessive amount of dry shampoo and a glistening halo of shine spray. Her black opaque tights are located on the floor with its usual sprinkling of puppy fur. She dusts off as much as possible vowing this will be the week she purchases a much needed lint brush. Her eyes settle on her favorite shiny skirt, pairing it with the same tri-blend tank she wore to bed. After layering another grey cotton piece over her outfit, she runs down the stairs declaring her readiness to him. Her ensemble is complete after she wraps a thick cashmere pashmina around her neck, slides into her buttersoft vintage Versace biker jacket, ties the laces on her suede fringe boots, and mists a sprinkling of Matthew Williamson’s scent over her hair. She trots onto the Portobello Road, slinging her cherry red Chanel bag over her shoulder heading towards the same place they go every Sunday.
vintage Versace jacket, American Apparel skirt and tri-blend tank, grey layering top from Hong Kong market, Zara fringed boots, topshop tights, Kabiri bangle, Chanel bag, Georg Jensen necklace.
