If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you’ll know I often get on my soapbox and rant about the lack of colour in winter fashion.
I don’t get the opportunity to go home very often, and this year one of my resolutions was to make it happen as frequently as I could manage. Home is a small country town in Far North Queensland. It doesn’t boast anything particularly unique or spectacular, but it’s the place of my childhood sleepovers, birthday parties and school excursions. My school, first ballet studio, primary-school-friend’s houses and best of all, my parents.
I’m a bit of a sucker for a pussy-bow blouse. In a lot of instances they can start looking a bit fussy, but when the blouse in question comes in the sweetest shade of dusky pink silk, who cares?
Colour, Colour, colour. If you’ve ready any of my previous posts, you’ll know that there’s nothing I love quite as much as beautiful colours.
Hello everyone! I am writing this post from my parent’s couch in Far North Queensland, where I have taken up residence and intend to reside (with zero-minimal activity) for the next six days.
Does anyone else ever get completely fed up with how heavy winter coats can be? And have you ever found it super awkward to eat or do things with your hands because the cuffs get in the way? Maybe I’m the only one, but sometimes I feel almost suffocated by my layers and I crave for the cold on just a little bit of my skin.
I thank my lucky stars every day for my friends. Because I moved away from home at such a young age, they were the people that witnessed firsthand my emotionally-charged, teenaged roller-coaster, the people who lent me literal shoulders to cry on, hugged me when I was successful and ventured into the wilds of the world with me.