I’m off to Florence in 2 weeks and seriously need to start assessing my pre/summer wardrobe (not going to be necessary over here in Blighty for at least the next 4 months). Going to be a big trip up to the attic and dragging the bin bags of clothes out, as is my bi-annual ritual.

So in the spirit of things, I bought the much coveted 4½” Wisteria wedges from Topshop today. Ameezzin. I actually bought the nude ones about 3 weeks ago the the second they came out, but took them home and realised they look weird against my skin colour (‘clothing racism’ as my friend Folusha would say, i.e. skin coloured tights and the like) so had to exchange them for the black ones instead – which of course sold out everywhere.

When I’m told I can’t have something – it then becomes a mission (that, or a tantrum). I called nearly every main store in the country for the last 2 weeks, including getting my younger brother to go into the Birmingham store for me, and hand the phone to the bemused sales assistant, much to his horror; and finally managed to track down a random pair left at Oxford Circus (I have their shoe lounge direct number saved in my phone for such emergencies) and braved the wind and rain to get them. I then triumphantly called my friend Sarah, who I had dragged around the week before to assist me on my search, but was not met with the desired response. I believe the words “loser” and “obsessed” were used.

This is what happens when you’re on leave from work and have too much time on your hands.

x

[photo by me]