Thesis: All fashion bloggers are scary little clones who will take over the world because The Donald lets them. I beg to differ.
Yesterday I read an article about how fashion bloggers all look alike, dress alike, choose the same Eames chairs and basically subsist on avocado toast, chia bowls and elaborately decorated cake pops, which makes totally sense, because how could you maintain the shape of a wispy twelve-year-old otherwise? Well, maybe not the cake pops, but how else to show everybody that you are not the anorexic model you look like?
Well, let´s clarify that: Unfortunately, I have neither a pout - except when I´m denied the rose-coloured walls in the living room I so long for, an incidence that happens on a twice-weekly basis, mainly because Hubby doesn´t feel the need himself yet - nor luscious dark blond locks (in fact, I might have turned grey completely in a few years, mostly because four kids take their toll.. And there will be a story accompanying each strand). Which is a pity, because I´m quite sure I would be rich and famous if I had.
Nobody would like to see pictures of what I dress like day-in, day-out, unless they are interested in basic jeans and men´s pants and whatever happened to lie beside the bathtub and seemed clean enough.
Anything Eames in my apartment I entirely blame on Hubby. My taste is entirely more baroque, as Hubby would like to let you know.
True, I like avocado toast as much as every veritable fashion blogger worth her Saint-Laurent bag, but my drug of choice would be Boudin Caviar, a ravishing little dish invented for me by Hubby, which makes me almost forgive him his Eames-addiction.
Buy the best blood sausage you can find (we love this), sauté in a pan, spread as much of the best caviar you can afford over it, and serve with a side salad made from bitter greens like water cress and dandelion leaves and a bottle of white wine. Heaven.
Well, let´s clarify that: Unfortunately, I have neither a pout - except when I´m denied the rose-coloured walls in the living room I so long for, an incidence that happens on a twice-weekly basis, mainly because Hubby doesn´t feel the need himself yet - nor luscious dark blond locks (in fact, I might have turned grey completely in a few years, mostly because four kids take their toll.. And there will be a story accompanying each strand). Which is a pity, because I´m quite sure I would be rich and famous if I had.
Nobody would like to see pictures of what I dress like day-in, day-out, unless they are interested in basic jeans and men´s pants and whatever happened to lie beside the bathtub and seemed clean enough.
Anything Eames in my apartment I entirely blame on Hubby. My taste is entirely more baroque, as Hubby would like to let you know.
True, I like avocado toast as much as every veritable fashion blogger worth her Saint-Laurent bag, but my drug of choice would be Boudin Caviar, a ravishing little dish invented for me by Hubby, which makes me almost forgive him his Eames-addiction.
Buy the best blood sausage you can find (we love this), sauté in a pan, spread as much of the best caviar you can afford over it, and serve with a side salad made from bitter greens like water cress and dandelion leaves and a bottle of white wine. Heaven.
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