Confessions of a Grown-Up

I've totally lost inspiration.
There, I said it.
Somewhere, along the line these past few weeks, I've totally lost my drive, and my spark. I've stopped living, and am just existing. As a strong advocate of the John Keating theory that 'poetry is what we are alive for', the fact that I've lost my creativity upsets me. Is it laziness, is it apathy? It can't be lack of inspiration - I've got a great, full and wonderful life that I've worked hard for and am beginning to reap the benefits of.
But it's not enough. Classic Little Mermaid Syndrome. What's over the next hill? Do I want it? Do I have what I want, and how do I get it?
The last time I felt like this, I upped and left my home and came to London. I'm not sure where I can go this time, and I'm not sure if running away is the answer. But a dramatic change needs to happen to drag me out of the apathy. I was tempted to dye my hair black last night, a small rebellion and a little shake-up. Thankfully, I got warned off it but I'm still toying with the idea.
Whenever I'm in doubt, sad, scared or troubled, I call my mother. I used to belittle my ex for being unable to make any form of life decision without consulting his parents (he's 26), and I don't expect mine to do that for me, ever. But recently, when I call, wanting to talk seriously, honestly and openly about what's bothering me, the words stick in my throat.
I think it's because I know that she isn't able to help. And that's not her fault. It's just that the one thing that comes with being an adult is having to confront your own fears, your own demons, alone. Maybe the words are sticking in my throat, caught on the tip of my tongue, because my supposedly adult voice just can't say them.
It's an awkward, lonely, inbetween time, this time, when we have to figure ourselves out. I'm not looking forward to it. I'm not happy, and I haven't really been for a while. It's nobody's fault, except the apathy's. I blame the dark evenings, the sad music and my own wretched hole of general uselessness, the fight gone out and the light gone out.
So excuse me while I drag myself up out of the doldrums and back into the wonderful world I worked to get into. I'll come back, when I find what I'm looking for.


A change might do me good

And while we're on the subject of beauty...I've been thinking a long time about changing the famous coif. As horrendous as the prospect of trying to grow out this crop would be, I'm desperate to try something new.
So shall I be Molly?
Shall I be Joan?
Or shall I be Agyness?


Autumn face

Image via Stylist, created by Alex Box
Edie Campbell for Glamour UK
Emma Watson for Elle UK
Coco Rocha via here
Big dark brows, 60s eye flicks, deep red lips, whiter than white skin, peachy cheeks. This is my inspiration for A/W beauty - whether it's a flawlessly painted canvas a la the lovely Illamasqua ladies, or a gently enhanced version of existing beauty (Emma Watson - I am the only one who thinks that that haircut is the best move she ever made). The beauty of colder weather is, unlike summer which causes your carefully applied face to slide sweatily off, the areas you want to enhance are generally brought out. Cheeks pinken, skin smooths and evens out.
Until it gets properly cold though, I'll be faking it with Illamasqua's new season colours, and their miraculous Cream Foundation. 


Shake Him Off

It's hard to dance with the devil on your back...

So shake him off!
God damn Florence and her upbeat lyrics. It's been a ridiculously hectic, stressful and turmoil-filled few days, but thanks to her and her upbeat tunes, I'm strangely galvanised. Also thanks to a second pair of these fabulous Primark trousers, someone asking me if these three-year-old Topshop shoes were Balenciaga, some hair gel (ok a fucktonne of hair gel), and a little (cringe) Coldplay. Judge if you want - it fills me with joy. 


Cheer The F*** Up Day

My colleague and I were discussing how stressed/tired/angry/upset people are around this time of year and we decided that today was going to be official 'Cheer The Fuck Up' Day. I chose to celebrate it by getting tonsillitis and needing a day in bed. But inside, I am cheering up.


Trouser season

As autumn has finally decided to grace us with its presence (currently sitting here in a woolly jumper typing this) it's time to put aside the mini-dresses and embrace the trouser.
And thankfully, Topshop's new season is happy to oblige with some flattering smart cuts in suitably autumnal colours.
After last year's love affair with my mustard ASOS dress I picked up the shade again and plan on (much to the delight of my mother) working a series of autumnal shades - yellows, oranges, reds and browns. With a few sneaky colours thrown in (watch this space) and of course, my fail-safe black. 
Oh who am I kidding. I'll dress exactly as I want - no accents, no specific colour palettes, no agenda. 
Except great trousers. Like these budget beauties from Primark.
I made it my mission to wear heels (admittedly, mostly kitten to start with) every day this week and succeeded (with a few stumbles and wobbles, of course), in part of my ambition to live up to River Song's descriptor 'Hell in high heels'. I've experienced my fair share of hellish experiences and hellish as it is walking on the balls of your feel with no cushioning, there's few easier joys than the extra poise one gets from walking in a well-made, gorgeous, comfortable, empoweringly high pair of heels. 
I also replaced my beloved black heeled brogues, as my old ones have been polished so many times they are more green than black. Summer is the time for comfy flats. Winter is all about treading softly...four inches taller than before.