This is my garden in the snow a few weeks ago. It’s hard to believe this happened. London is almost warm now.
Mishkin’s is a kind-of Jewish deli in Covent Garden. I met an old friend and her boyfriend there for lunch in January. I’d not seen her in about six years and we drank wine and talked about old times.
Three weeks after we had lunch, he asked her to marry him underwater while they were scuba diving.
Here are some things I want. I understand I am not a person that makes sense.
Steve Alan Drawstring Coat because I am always cold (it is sold out. Everything is always sold out. Who is buying this stuff? Give it to me.)
Swedish Hasbeens to make me feel like a lady.
Mountain Glacier spray to make me smell like a forest.
Proenza Schouler printed wrap skirtÂ to make me feel like a lady.
Vintage Karl Springer drinks cartÂ to make me feel like a lady in Don Draper’s office.
Crosley CR40 Mini Turntable on which I will play Rumours by Fleetwood Mac continuously.
Coffee-Break Commuter Almond-Skateboard because I’m working on Nike and have been watching lots of skateboarding videos and imagining myself being instantly good at it and cool and popular.
NewÂ Chanel framesÂ because the guy I sit next to told me I have the same glasses as his Mum (“she’s a cool Mum, don’t worry,” he said as I died a little inside).
This empty bottle of Chanel Platinum Ã‰goÃ¯steÂ sat on a wall two doors down from my house for four days. Every time I walked past it, it had been moved a few inches in either direction as though picked up and smelt by passing strangers.
Chanel says this is a fragrance for the passionate, romantic man. A man with fire that burns like light onto film.
I just found this outtake from Other People’s Houses. I can’t believe a year ago I was planning the exhibition.
It reminded me of how many of you expressed interest in collaborating with me last year. I haven’t forgotten about you, I promise. But it turns out my brain’s only equipped to do one thing at a time and when I’m not working, I’m struggling to write the second draft of the novel. I’m struggling to work out what on earth I’m doing with my life. Hell, I can barely even decide what to wear in the morning.
I’ll be in touch with you all when things are simpler, clearer.
“It’s a matter of pleasing people… And having them to believe in you and you to believe in them.”
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A wonderful serenity has taken possession of my entire soul, like these sweet mornings of spring which I enjoy with my whole heart. I am alone, and feel the charm of existence in this spot, which was created for the bliss of souls like mine. I am so happy, my dear friend, so absorbed in the exquisite sense of mere tranquil existence, that I neglect my talents. I should be incapable of drawing a single stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that I never was a greater artist than now.
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