If, like me, you've spent the better part of today mourning the end of the Bloom's, then fear not. Better things are coming along this Autumn. And it's not just toffee apples and pumpkins.
Bulky coats and heels are playing over and over on my mind; specifically, the trench coat I've left waiting patiently at home (it's been far too long since I've been back to Warwickshire). I'm looking to pair it down with jeans, nautical stripes and simple gold jewelry - and up with a leather skirt, heels and textured jumper.
I'm all over sharp silhouettes and structural designs, androgynous styling, texturing and bold prints. There's so much of the season to do, and somehow, so little time. Private lives on paper and public lives on print; I want to think about Fright Night and bonfires, not the circumference of Kim's engagement ring.
One more sleep and I'm back home scoring cake by the fire and fresh, pine air. Praying that I'll be sober by 4am (what's late night etiquette when the clocks go back an hour?). Brandishing winter drinks on the long drive back to the countryside; wellies in tow and fresh rosemary by the doorstep. No wine. First of the birthday hauls; two painful shoulders en route back to London. Afternoons in rustic country pubs, candlelit dinners with speeches and picking berries.
Leftovers from dinners with good company and sweet wine; courgette, potatoes, herbs, grilled fish and peppers in a one-tray roast. Washed down with current affairs, emails to my lettings agency, Pinterest and TMR. Wrapped presents by the bed, bags packed and a cinnamon/almond cake resting on the kitchen counter. Two uncompleted essays that hurt my brain and make my palms shake. Pumpkin spice lattes and creamy coffee, cinnamon sponge cake fuelling my daily living. Cinnamon sticks, and cinnamon candles and just far too much cinnamon in general.
Considering autumn happens every year (for three months of every year, I add) I'm unsure as to why I still get so excited about it. In fact, the same goes for Christmas. Which stands to reason that I spend, on average, almost 40% of my life in exitable anticipation and child-like wonderment - not that I'm complaining. But the whole festive period (and the - ahem - 3 month lead-up) is just bloody brilliant, isn't it. I'll only (for the best part of the foreseeable future) be living in London for a few more months (scary!), and thus, law dictates that I must spend every day reveling in the excitement of the city. And a large proportion of that is related to festivities. While London is in that pre-golden stage where all the leaves mirror that of an African sunset, we wait patiently for the frost and sparkly lights to drop in.
As much as I'd love to invest in a leather skirt (French Connection do a truly lust-worthy one here), alas, it is not meant to be. Quite simply, my student budget won't allow it. Can you even imagine all the statement-earringed, fluffy-jumper, trench-coated excitement I could have had with said skirt in tow? It's quite emotional, I say.
Perhaps it is fate and - after an extortionate beginning to the semester - better things will come along in time. Besides, I'm (perhaps over-paranoingly)restraining myself from shopping until I know what I've got for my birthday. Diptyque perfume, you will have to wait my friend. In the mean time I'll take my mind off my addiction vices, by thinking about lovely things like the German Market. More Bratwurst, gingerbread and beer - oh, the beer, than you can imagine. Rumor has it that they really do wear lederhosens and dirndls - which is almost too much for me to handle. To sum things up; things are bloody brilliant right now. And if wooly hats and spiced lattes aren't getting you over-excited, then I don't know what will.
