women, lovely, intelligent women, often british, talk lightly about designers whose dresses they covet/purchase/wear and 1. i have no idea who any of these designers are and 2. i would never, not in a million years, spend £500 on a piece of clothing because it's like, twice that in dollars! and i'm cheap! that tom ford lipstick that's as much as half a mortgage payment? not for moi. it'd just end up decorating the rim of a wine glass anyhow.
so while it is conceivable that i will share the odd recipe with you, maybe some pictures, and probably even a rant on grammatical sins, you will not ever read me extolling the virtues of miu miu or louboutins. chances are, i'd spill red wine on them anyway, and then i'd be really pissed off.
are we all ok with this?
p.s. i like to think of myself as adequately put together and, if i do say so myself, i know how to wear a scarf like nobody's business, but my problem (if you want to call it a problem) is that i refuse to be uncomfortable (or broke) in the name of fashion so take me as i am.