I can't stop thinking about winter. I am sick of this non existent summer, the odd hot humid day followed by a huge amount of rain, probably the equivalent amount of sweat London is giving off. Blergh. I got a very funny text from a friend the other day telling me how she had taken her Mongolian sheepskin jacket out for a stroll (stroll? ha! the thing is dead!) and a bit of airing, giving two fingers to the British summer. Yea fuck you summer, you promised sun kissed skin and barbecues till the early hours and you didn't deliver.
I favour winter over you, you joke of a season especially as I am sick to death of your floral prints and jersey blazers. And what was that ridiculous Miami trend you threw at us? A total after thought I feel tagged on the end of the season by the high street to use up all that neon shit you had left over from two years ago no doubt.
Well keep it. Bring on the washed leather, the structured tailored jackets and the thigh high boots. Wrap me up in some chunky knitwear and a pair of elbow length leather gloves and we'll call it quits. Eh... but can I keep the strawberries and cream till they got out of season please?
I plan to kick start winter in these from the dreaded Topshop...