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Knee deep in togs… more like drowning in them!

To clarify, togs is slang for clothes, just in case you were expecting pictures of trendy dogs or tap-dancing frogs. Sorry to disappoint all the animal lovers out there, but this blog is about the most beautiful love story in history, more tear jerking than the Notebook, more wonderful than Casablanca. This, my friends, is about my love affair… with fashion! Or more accurately my obsession, which regularly creates the tumbleweed blowing in my purse, causes mild blindness from the amount of time I spend on Asos and leaves my arms building bulk like Sylvester Stallone due to hours rummaging through thrift shops.

In the words of Julie blatantly-stole-my-hairstyle Andrews, these are a few of my favourite things:

1) Anything high wasted; gives you a booty Beyonce would be proud of  and instantly creates a vintage look.

2) Conversational blouses; I can’t say no to tiny humans chilling on my collar, like fashionable little borrowers.

3) The 1980s; the prints, the shoulder pads, the novelty cardigans. DELISH – minus the perm!

4) Horror t-shirts; horror is my other lover, my bit-on-the-side. So, expect visits from Jason, Michael and Freddy from time to time.

5) Quirky and novelty accessories. Think Lulu Guinness and Charlotte Olympia; Yes please with sprinkles!

6) Delicate gold coloured necklaces AND chunky ones too; one extreme to the other…

7) Jumpsuits & playsuits; Carrie Bradshaw passed this disease onto me through my childhood. No one does an all-in-one better!

8) Wearing too many rings; the more unique the better, whether it’s thumb or little finger.

9) Socks with shoes; perfect for living in I’m-not-going-to-work-it’s-too-cold London.

10) Number ten just had to be done for this list; who the hell stops at nine?

There will be the occasional posts on beauty (lipsticks galore), hair (despite my lack of it) and, more frequently, nails (since I have enough varnish to drown a family of hippos).

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do Ryan Gosling (VERY much indeed then?) and I will keep forcing my amateur photographers (mum, dad, brother and the local bin browser) to take moody photos of me attempting to pose in my favourite outfits.

Peace out

-x-

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