These boots were literally made for walking, and wearing.

Dark nights, central heating and a smattering of browning leaves on the pavement: autumn well and truly has us in her blustery grip. While it is depressing to say goodbye to summer (did we ever say hello?) I must admit that there is something about this time of year that thrills me. There is so much to look forward to over the next few months; Halloween, bonfire night and of course Christmas as well as the simple pleasures Jack Frost brings like hats and scarves and new winter boots.

Boots are the most versatile shoe a woman can have in her wardrobe, this is not the same for men, for most men boots=JLS wannabe. This time last year like most people I know I lusted after a pair of All Saints biker boots, they were the definitive flat boot of last winter. I was a struggling student however so I searched high and low for the cheapest and most appealing alternative. My search took me to River Island where I found 'The Ones'; soft, distressed leather with laces and a zip, not too butch but substantial enough to get me through what was a long and icy winter.

When in March the snow finally decided to stop I cast the boots aside, my feet longed to wear pumps and trainers and heels again. However this was short lived. As the sun came out I reveled in the few opportunities to get my pasty legs out and the boots just seemed to go with everything; they toughened up my florals and complimented my laid back approach to summer dressing. They were the perfect all-weather, cross-seasonal boot, something I had once believed was a myth. In fact they still are, and I continue to wear them at every available opportunity despite the fact that the sole is wearing thin and the insoles are curled up in the corner of the toe.

Sadly one day, in the not so distant future I will have to invest in a new pair of winter boots and while there will be some pleasure in the hunt to find that perfect pair I will never forget AW09/10 or in fact SS10 or as it will forever be remembered The Year of THE Boot.

I wouldn't mind these SEE BY CHLOE boots £328...

These classic DM's are maybe more in my budget though £74.99 SCHUH



I love my boots.



Today I stubbed my toe

I have somewhat neglected the blogosphere for the last few days and the reasons for this are two-fold. Firstly, I have done nothing worthy of writing about. While I am happy enough to ramble on about myself and tell stories which truly expose me as the klutzy and slightly boring fool that I am I understand that blogs should be exciting and current. And currently I am wearing my PJ's for the second day in a row, not glamorous.

Secondly, I am in a bit of a funk. While this has probably not been helped by my slovenly choice of attire, I am not feeling much like taking photos of myself and posting them online for the world to judge. I say the world but I would be lucky if this blog has even made it further than my garden gate. Since returning home I have been seeking solace in carbohydrates, not a good move therefore today I began a healthy eating regime. The plan now is to become a beautiful and mysterious waif, maybe this will help me get a job and then maybe even a boyfriend.

On the subject of gainful employment however tomorrow I am returning to Schuh for a couple of shifts. Selling shoes is what I do best, alongside interpretative dancing and karaoke. The benefit of going back to retail? The discount of course, and I already have my eye on a pair of wedged Clarks desert boots although probably not wise to spend my wages before I've even worked a shift. Hopefully the running up and down the stairs will help me drop a few pounds for Operation Babe too. I promise loyal readers that I will try and update you on my fast-paced and fabulous life more regularly from now on, try not to get too excited.

I love these even though they are very wrong. SCHUH £99.99

I went to the charity shops in Morningside today and got some amazing bargains! I love second hand clothes, they always have so much character and generally nobody else is wearing them at parties. Here is a little look at what I picked up...

 The jumper is Mohair and yes that is a multicoloured glittery thread through it. So sick, so eighties.

The shirt in the middle is really nice teamed with jeans, I loved the grandfather collar and the crazy little man design, it's almost tribal.

The final thing is a cross between a jacket and a cardigan, it will work as both and I love the classic gold buttons.

drive me crazy

Edinburgh BEWARE as after five years I have gotten back behind the wheel of a car. Yes, I am once again learning to drive. At ages 23 it seems preposterous that I cannot legally drive a car and believe me I am ashamed to admit this dirty little secret. Not only is driving a useful skill in day to day life it is also a pretty essential skill in my chosen profession hence my current employment predicament.

It's not that I never wanted to drive it's just that my driving career has been somewhat like my love life, abysmally unfortunate. On my 17th birthday I got the ultimate gift, a car. That ancient silver Fiat Cinquecento seemed like the most incredible car in the world to my young eyes, it had a tape player and everything. My biggest obstacle was that I wasn't a very good driver, I was quite nervy and dangerously cautious however after almost a year's worth of lessons plus some help from my very patient Grandfather I was ready to sit my test.

My test was two days before my 18th birthday, and four days before I made the big move up to Aberdeen for University. I imagined I would be making that move in my own car as a driver, how very wrong I was. I knew within 5 minutes I had failed, I was driving like a blind person, yet I soldiered on. I hit the kerb on my reverse park and another driver screamed obscenities at me through the open window yet I kept going. I was even made to do an emergency stop! Obviously I failed, and badly.

I had a lot going on though so with a heavy heart I said goodbye to my friends, my family and my Fiat and moved up North for years of cramming and cavorting at Aberdeen University. I came home for the holidays however and thought that the summer between first and second year would be the perfect opportunity for me to pass my test, I had taken approximately 36 lessons after all. But then, disaster struck...

One balmy summer evening I was watching Big Brother when I heard an almighty crash. My mum ran outside convinced that somebody was trying to steal our wheelie bin, in actual fact what greeted us was car carnage. In my very narrow street, lined down both sides with parked cars, a man had fallen ill behind the wheel and crashed his way up my street. Miraculously nobody was injured however seven cars were written off and one of them was my Cinquecento.

It has taken me this long to get back behind the wheel, not because I am scarred by my past experiences mainly just because I am lazy and I hate it when I am not good at things. However yesterday's lesson went surprisingly well, nobody was injured and I actually remembered what to do. Maybe driving a car is just like riding a bike, you never forget how. Although I am not a great cyclist either.

Sunday girl

Sunday night blues, a common ailment for those who have to return to uni or work after a heavy and hedonistic weekend. While I have nothing to do tomorrow I have a severe case of the blues, this weekend was ace fun and stretching ahead of me is another week of seemingly endless days and fruitless attempts to secure employment.

I am always sad to leave Aberdeen and my old flatmates, highlights of this weekend included yummy cocktails, delicious food and singing kid’s songs in a nightclub. Good times spent with great people.

I also ventured out in a pair of nude coloured jodhpur style leggings from H and M which I couldn’t resist due to the faux leather patches on the thighs. The jury is still out on them however as in certain lights I appeared trouserless. Not a good look. I still love caramel and nude tones though and there is a pair of buttery suede shorts from Topshop which I NEED in my life.

Thankfully my Sabbath day depression has been somewhat soothed by a roast chicken dinner and an extra episode of the X Factor. I suppose things could be worse...

Yummy Cocktails were courtesy of Rumour, a pop-up bar in Aberdeen. So good!

Love these shorts in every colour, Can't decide: Khaki or Beige?

The Birthday Blog

Today is my twenty third birthday, I remember so many of my past birthdays incredibly fondly and the memories are so vivid I cannot quite believe how much time has passed. Unlike many people I do not look at birthdays as turning a year older, although this may change as I start the dreaded countdown to thirty, instead I see them as a day to be spoilt and enjoy the company of family and friends.

As it’s my birthday I took a day off the ironing and instead I set my talents to cooking up a veggie chilli, it’s pretty much the best chilli ever, even the meat eaters think so. I also made a mango salsa to go with it and my dad whipped up his famous guacamole. It was a Mexican feast, which is just as well as there were eleven of us eating.

Guacamole

Mango Salsa

I have somehow managed to stretch my birthday out and the celebrations don’t end tonight. Tomorrow I am going for dinner at Fishers Restaurant in Leith, what with the Pope being in town we thought it was best to stay down this neck of the woods as naturally the head of the Vatican isn’t visiting lovely Leith.  Then on Friday I am heading up to Aberdeen for Felix Da Housecat at the Forum as well as dinner at Josephine’s. It’s BYOB, how much wine is too much?

My beautiful new Michael Kors watch courtesy of Angela and Gordon. LEGENDS.

Lady in grey

This weekend I finally purchased an item of clothing that I have been lusting after for months. No, not the Mulberry Alexa or the nude and black Chanel pumps, I am now the proud owner of a pair of grey cotton Nike jogging bottoms. I imagine the most fashionable amongst you are shivering at the mere thought of this fashion monstrosity but I have no shame.


My slight obsession with the ‘grey cotton’ (as they are affectionately known to their biggest fans) started some years ago when my younger brother got a pair. A fan of lounging around the house he did not seem to want to take his off and soon enough he had a variety of different pairs however they were always grey, and always Nike.

It soon became evident that Robin was NEVER going to take the trousers off, he wore them to the shops, when out with friends, and much to my horror even out to a restaurant. The only time he didn’t have them on was when he was at work, just as well as I really don’t think they could be considered under the smart/casual dress code his employers suggest.

As a big fan of leisure wear myself I simply had to try them on and see what all the fuss was about. Within seconds of pulling them on I was converted; it was like walking around in a cloud, my legs felt like they were being hugged by baby lambs. I had to have a pair.

Why do they have to be Nike? I do not know, but Robin assures me that other brands do not compare. And why do they have to be grey? Well for me grey is the original, it is the grey that has intrigued me over these past few years and I also think that grey is slightly classier.

Can a jogging bottom ever be classy I hear you ask? Last year’s sport luxe trend suggests so; I only wish I’d taken advantage of that trend at the time. Ultimately as long as you don’t have your hand in your crotch like the majority of jogger wearers you’ll be ok. And I don’t intend to wear mine out of the house, much.

Food glorious food

I love food. I have been fortunate enough to have grown up in a family where food really means something; at home we don't eat to survive, we eat for the love of food. My dad is an excellent cook, years ago he dreamt of opening up his own restaurant but he does not have the patience to cook for the masses. He enjoys making people happy with food and this is evident as he stands over me while I take the first bite of the banana and oatmeal muffin he freshly baked this morning.

I like to cook too, something which I clearly inherited from my Dad along with my height and my ability to take everything personally. I have often found myself  looking through recipe books for fun, or reading menus online from restaurants I've been to or hope to go to someday. Both of these Sunday activities often end up with me feeling incredibly hungry!

I wish that I could post photos of some of the delicious dishes my Dad has served up over the past few days but sadly I am without a camera, a problem which I hope to rectify shortly as what self-respecting blogger doesn't have the ability to post vain and 'arty' shots of themselves and their surroundings? In the meantime I shall simply have to write about my culinary endeavours and hope that your imaginations can do the rest.

On Monday evening I returned home from a weekend away to a salad of cucumber, melon, tomato and goats cheese. The whole thing was lightly dressed with homemade dressing, black pepper and mint and was accompanied with chunks of still-warm ciabatta. The odd combination of the fruit with the cucumber and goats cheese sounds strange but believe me it tastes incredible; light, refreshing and crisp.

Breakfast on Tuesday was one of the aforementioned muffins; made with oats, granola and banana they are a slightly healthy alternative to the Starbucks quadruple chocolate bad boy that has so often resulted in waves of nausea and regret. For dinner it was Moules Mariniere, a mound of mussels in a white wine broth served with thin and crispy homemade chips.

Wednesday, and my dad was golfing so I had to get my own lunch-the cheek of it. But he made up for it with dinner. To start, juicy king prawns sizzling in a golden pool of olive oil alongside numerous bulbs of chopped garlic, whole chillies and a generous amount of torn parsley, all of which was mopped up with fresh bread. To follow, a potato gratin, warm and creamy inside with the perfect amount of crunch on top, roast mushrooms and tomatoes on the side and for the meat eaters a glorious slab of medium rare steak with dijon mustard butter. Even the semi-vegetarian had a taste of that. Finally a passion fruit pavlova for four, by this point I was fit to burst.

Today much to my father's relief we are going elsewhere for dinner however I am sure he has something wonderful planned for tomorrow. I may have to start demanding the carb-free, low fat options soon though because at this rate I am going to have to change the title of this blog to 'I ate Olivia Palermo, and Whitney Port, and a large Domino's pizza.'

9-5

The title of tonight’s post is not an indication that I have finally found employment, sadly I remain jobless however I do love Dolly Parton. If pushed I would probably say Jolene is my favourite hit by the chesty songstress but it didn’t quite fit the theme of this entry.

Today I had what I deem to be a ‘productive’ day; I did some ironing, put on a wash, took out a wash, showered and still had time to sob uncontrollably at Channel 4’s midday repeat of season 2 of Brothers and Sisters. Being unemployed is both physically and emotionally draining. In the last week or so it has come to my attention that I do not like doing nothing, this came as quite a shock to me as I always believed a life of nothingness would be pure bliss. Perhaps a life doing nothing would only be enjoyable if I had an endless supply of money to fulfil my fantasies and fancies. At the moment I have resorted to carrying out household chores in exchange for pocket money.

My lack of income sadly means a lack of new things and my copious amount of time spent adding items to internet ‘wish lists’ is all in vain. Since returning home I have reworked the same five or six items of clothing, a Breton striped top, khaki skinny trousers, American Apparel denim shorts and grey oversized vest and my Topshop aviator jacket simply because everything else smells of damp courtesy of my old Aberdeen abode. I need new clothes like Spencer Pratt needs to see a healthcare profession and Victoria Beckham needs a hot dinner.

Tomorrow my day looks pretty full, I need to hoover the stairs and make cupcakes for my Mum’s work. Oh, and I should probably look for a proper job...

Denim Look Shorts, AMERICAN APPAREL £17

This TOPSHOP aviator style jacket (£58) is 'flying' off the rails.

Classic Chic. Breton top, Petit Bateau at URBAN OUTFITTERS £46

Attractive Female seeks Pic'n'mix Purchaser G.S.O.H

‘Why don’t you have a boyfriend?’ A familiar question and one I have heard far too often recently. My parents, friends, and even across the road neighbours are all curious to know why I remain unattached. Why don’t I have a boyfriend? The answer to that is that I do not know. I am nice, funny (sometimes) and reasonably attractive albeit with a slightly squint face. I can cook, I drink pints (of cider) and I like Jackie Chan films yet I remain perpetually single.


Being single is easy and this post isn’t necessarily a complaint, however, at this stage in my life I am beginning to feel the invisible pressure to be in a relationship or even the semblance of a relationship. At 23 my mother was just about to meet my father, people I went to school with are getting engaged all over Facebook and one of my best friends has just bought a dog with her other half despite being vehemently opposed to canine creatures a matter of months ago. I know that I am too young for all of that nonsense and far too selfish but maybe a boyfriend would be nice for a bit. I do fancy the idea of an extra set of Christmas presents and possibly a romantic city break. Any sort of city break for that matter.



My plight is made all the more difficult when my super close family get together, I am the eldest of eleven cousins but I will certainly not be the first to be wed. Even my 19-year-old brother has a long term girlfriend and he is a monosyllabic creature whose idea of romance is a takeaway and a night in watching Ultimate Big Brother. At a recent social gathering my mum told me just to bring a man, ANY man. The subtext: she wanted people to stop thinking she’d brought up some weirdo who couldn’t find a mate. Oh the desperation...



The kind people say that perhaps it is my beauty that scares people off, but they are usually biased, and almost always drunk. Perhaps I am too fussy, and a little unlucky but really the only downside to being single is nobody paying for your pic‘n’mix at the pictures. And my mum says when I’m single at 30 I can always try internet dating. Great.

I will settle for this MICHAEL KORS 'Boyfriend' style watch over the real thing any day.