i just got the september issue of vogue. it's always such a tome isn't it. i just hauled it across town with my laptop and nearly pulled my arm out.
i'm salivating over the house of j crew's creative director jenna lyons, shot by todd selby. it makes me lust for my pretend life in a brooklyn brownstone. a glasgow suburb doesn't have quite the same ring to it. is brooklyn as cool as it seems to be online, it's got to be a bit crap in places just like anywhere else, right?
here is a secret. sometimes i play this really stupid game in my head. in it i fantasise about the phone ringing with the most amazing job ever. like really, really, amazing. it's most likely abroad, somewhere exotic. this job requires that i need the best SWAT team on the job, the best minds and hands in the business.
in this stupid game i can take anyone i need to, so i like to spend time thinking about who would come in on it. a bit like fantasy league football, but it's with flowers and florists so it is infinitely better. we'd completely kill it of course and then this crazy good flower team we'd assembled would be in demand all over the world. there would be applause, plaudits, a standing ovation and probably lots of awards. oprah would call, there would certainly be a book deal.
i could run with this for a while but i'm presuming you get the idea.
i also spent a large part of last night's evening watching this over and over.