top brasserie

Chanel seems to be outdoing itself lately in the wacky department, at least at their Brompton Cross location. While I was window snapping, Ian, who works at the venerable old La Brasserie next door, stepped out for a cigarette. He was trying to move out of my way but I love the shot. We had a nice little chat & then he went back to work & I went on my way.

Hope all's wrapping up nicely for you, wherever you are.

santa baby

An assortment of quick snaps shot within minutes on Picadilly, near the Ritz and the Wolseley, and in this case, Pret a Manger. I loved the whole fur gilet/black stud bootie vibe but by the time I realised what a great look it was, I was further down the road. In fact I didn't even notice the feather effect on her skirt til I uploaded the shot. So please; if you recognise this girl, please ask her to get in touch. Thanks.



There's a great perfume shop called Santa Maria Novella (shown here on Picadilly, but they're also on Walton Street in London, and scattered round the world, like at least in NY & LA which to some people, is the whole world). The original, tho, is and was a fabulously secret wonderful place in Florence, near the Duomo.



My husband, Mr. Dot, had read about it in a Hannibal Lector book, actually, and wanted to go there so badly because the description sounded so fab. We were roaming round the hot streets, totally lost, he melted chocolate gelato all over his wonderful mustard linen jacket, and when we finally found it, tucked away and completely anonymous, it was every bit as wonderful and mysterious a place as we could imagine. Perhaps more. (I even took photos, but it's really not allowed, so you'll just have to go there yourself to see).

Speaking of Santa, I know I posted this a long time ago, and there are just so many versions of Santa Baby sung over the years, but this one, the original by Eartha Kitt, still remains my favourite:



Okay, enough from me for now. OOps, perhaps not. Me, me, me in my current uniform: Motel faux leopard coat, black jumper, tee, American Apparel thermal leggings, and black riding boots. Isn't it weird: it seems we've had Christmas decorations and such around us for ages, and now suddenly, it's just days away. My how time flies.



p.s. Thank you to auburn not red for figuring out that Poppy Scott was my 500th follower. I can't seem to reach her, so Poppy, please get in touch so I can send you a gift. Failing that, Auburn, you're the most likely recipient, altho Leah, you might just get one, too! Trying to think of just the right gift tho..

the real thing

I saw Vafa outside our favourite supermarket, Sainsbury's. I liked her look, altho I'm not really keen on jeans and boots at the moment. Probably because I'm so into black riding boots with black leggings with everything. And it wasn't the leopard print, which, I'm not kidding, I'm seeing on every single woman I see. It was just her face: she just exuded niceness.

While I was shooting her, I asked a bit about where she's from, where she got that bag, those shoes. She was really shy, really modest & sweet, and (this is the embarrassing part) she said either Kazakhstan, or Uzbekistan, which if anyone has seen West Wing knows, is quite different (I've even looked them up on wikipedia: yup. Very different). And I can't remember which one!



Then I asked where she got her bag: Dolce & Gabanna. I mean, look at the workmanship on this thing: there's even little copper links, along with the silver! I'm just so used to admiring things people wear and it's all Topshop this, Zara that, or H&M, or from a charity shop for £5.. this answer kind of stunned me. Confused, I asked if she works in the fashion industry (she doesn't). So I asked where her boots are from. Jimmy Choo. Oh, okay. I just didn't dare ask about anything else.



They look EXACTLY identical to the pair of vintage Anne Klein boots I wore literally to bits. I had loved them so much: no one wore thigh high boots at the time, apart from professional girls on the beat. They used to fall down and bag around my ankles, which, along with bare legs and little dresses, gave a great kind of girly look. It was so my style, and felt.. special. Damn, I miss those boots.



Thinking further about the comments on the girly girl post: none of the bloggers I've gotten to know seem remotely high maintenance, no matter how girly their styles. (And let's face it: there is nothing more unattractive to a guy, than a high maintenance woman. It's not a question of grooming: if they're 'high maintenance' emotionally, men will run a mile). It may seem a contradiction but, as a group, style bloggers are pretty switched on & low maintenance. True style icons don't spend hours looking in the mirror & checking their looks, and they're definitely not divas.

It's like that great quote by Gore Vidal: 'Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn.'