People always ask me why exactly I love the season so much, and quite simply, I just feel at home in the autumn. Perhaps it’s because, as a redhead, the heat doesn’t always agree with me, but I’ve come to realise it’s more about the comfort that the season brings to my life that I adore the most, and what’s more, this isn’t fleeting; I’ve felt this way since childhood.

I love everything about autumn. I don’t play favourites.

The sensory overload the tell-tale crunch of leaves between your boots brings; the myriad of gold, red, and orange tones you can feast your eyes on the minute you open your curtains; the dank and dreary weather that feels so fresh and almost spooky; the dark evenings arriving early; not to mention the signalling of the school year that you subconsciously feel when September arrives. Cinnamon-laced hot drinks soothe my soul, as does cuddling up with the heating on full blast and a date with a new book; all the best celebrations happen in autumn - Harvest Festival, Halloween, Bonfire Night, and Christmas – and don’t get me started on autumnal fashion. Cosy coats, decadent knits, tights, tartan dresses, and all those delicious chocolate tones. Life just seems slower, and I love to savour every second.

To me, it’s the year’s departing gift, wrapped in a copper-toned bow.

The title of this article is a little tongue-in-cheek, of course, but I really do make sure I complete this autumn list as soon as September begins

*Invest in some autumnal PJs

Nightwear is the new daywear, if you ask me. The nights are colder, so cosy pyjamas are an essential, which is why I always invest in a new pair to mark the season. This year, I’ve noticed that George at Asda, Primark, and Chelsea Peers have some really strong prints, and they won’t break the bank

*Light a candle

The soft amber glow of a fragrant candle really does set the tone on those autumn evenings, don’t you think?

Created with seasonal scents like pumpkin spice and apple crisp, they give a calming element to your before-bed routine, and I always treat myself to a few newbies on that important August payday. This Buttery Croissant offering from By The Pines has autumn written all over it, and it’s toxic free.

*Embrace nature

People who love autumn tend to love the great outdoors too, and nature really does give with both hands at this time of year.

From conkers bursting out from their shells to the changing leaves and ripening of apples, I like to get outside, pronto. It’s clinically proven that being in nature improves your mental health, which is why I walk so much more when September hits. I pull on my Hunter wellies and pretend I’m The Holiday as I take a stroll in the great outdoors and quite literally jump into a pile of leaves.

*Watch Gilmore Girls

Gilmore Girls is the ultimate comfort show, and it will always have a special place in my heart. The beats of “Where You Lead” by Carol King instantly evoke such a warm feeling inside.

The fictional town of Stars Hollow is just magical, and it seems to be autumn all year round. The New England aesthetic and intimate familiarity are just the business, in my humble opinion.

*Up my self-care

Autumn means a decrease in heat, which can cause the skin to dehydrate rapidly when the central heating gets whacked up.

Which is why you’ll find me nourishing my visage to the max. Thick nourishing face creams, sumptuous bubble baths, body lotions galore, and a face oil at night are applied to ensure I’m super hydrated, despite the cold.

*Dig into autumn-themed books

There’s something about autumn that makes you feel rather pensive and reflective. Cold weather and dark evenings mean that there’s more time to spend indoors, and snuggling up under a knitted blanket with a hot drink and a great book feels almost heavenly.

From Autumn Chills by Agatha Christie to The Pumpkin Spice Cafe by Laurie Gilmore (the most obvious pseudonym of all time, but here we are), an autumn-themed book is where it’s at.

*Drink fancy autumnal coffees

Starbucks PSL is to blame for this, but so many iconic coffee houses have followed suit over the years, adding mouthwatering warming drinks to their regular menu.

There are a plethora of toasty beverages available at this time of year, and we all know there is nothing as comforting as a seasonal drink. It doesn’t have to be expensive either; I often add a little maple syrup to my coffee at home or grab some hazelnut-flavoured syrup.

*Get my bake on

My kitchen is my refuge in the autumn, and some cakes just need to be made in homage – from cinnamon cookies to apple crumble and pecan pies. Plus, The Great British Bake Off starts. Tis the season to nest, but make it tasty.

*Watch ‘Fall’ movies

The list of autumn movies is endless. My personal favourite is You’ve Got Mail. Meg Ryan’s role as Katherine Kelly, in that brownstone apartment and as the owner of that wonderful children’s bookshop, is basically my lifelong dream. Of course, there’s also Practical Magic, When Harry Met Sally, The Parent Trap, and Harry Potter. Even though they were shot many years ago, they are timeless, and the nostalgia level they bring is just elite.

Are you an autumn lover like myself? If so, what things do you do when September starts?

I’d love to know.

Laura x

This is a deep dive into the mysterious death of Zac Brettler, a nineteen-year-old London native who hesitated before he jumped from the fifth floor of a luxury apartment into the River Thames in 2019. And no, he wasn’t suicidal. His last moments were captured on an MI6 camera, positioned opposite the building.

I am predominantly someone who finds fictional books both a joy and easy to consume, so it takes a special type of author to engage me with a factual display, but PRK does this so effortlessly with this true-life account of the events leading up to Zac’s demise and the terrible aftermath.

What’s wonderful about this book is that it gives Zac’s parents a voice. Even though it reads rather like a murder mystery, with subtle clues and hints that can seem like a comprehensive whodunnit, it’s still mindful and respectful of the tragedy that unfolded.

It turns out that Zac was essentially a fantasist. Despite being from a loving family, with two great parents and a sibling he adored, he felt inferior after being rejected from his older brother’s private school, which he failed to get into after applying twice. This dismissal appeared to have a profound effect on his identity, and as he got older, he wanted to make a mark and became obsessed with The Wolf of Wall Street and the money-making schemes of Jordan Belfort; he coveted fast cars and crypto, and he aspired to make cash through impressive, somewhat dodgy investments. He even changed his image, choosing designer labels, slicked-back hair, and extravagant watches; anything to give the impression of vast wealth.

Seemingly running a mini-enterprise on his iPhone, much to his parents’ quiet dismay, Zac proceeds to change his surname, unbeknownst to his family, and touts himself as the son of a Russian oligarch. He then befriends Akbar Shamji, an entrepreneur, and Verinder Sharma, a known gangster. Brettler reportedly told them he was worth billions, was willing to invest, and that his mother lived in Dubai, not his native Maida Vale. Zac is with both men the night he dies; they were the last people to see him in the Riverwalk apartment before he jumped.

The book extensively explores underworld crime that the city of London is apparently riddled with-something many of us are too naive to see, myself included. Every stone is turned over, from ‘80s robbers associated with Brink’s-Mat to Chelsea boss Roman Abramovich. Patrick Radden Keefe presents his findings through emails, texts, extensive interviews, and incredible investigative journalism, all woven together, leaving the reader ready to make their own informed decision about exactly how Zac died.

As a parent, I found it horrendous how a boy who is adored by his parents and received love, care, and the fruits of a private school education could end up so deeply embroiled and in over his head with some seriously dangerous people.

Patrick Radden Keefe remains neutral in his narration, but he also interjects various musings, including one poignant statement from Otto Frank, the father of Anne, who, after reading his daughter’s diary, realised perhaps he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

“Most parents don’t know, really, their children,” Patrick declares.

This struck a chord with me. As parents, you can invest all of your time in your offspring, provide them with a safe, happy childhood, but essentially, you can’t be with them all the time. You can help shape their minds, but you can’t make choices for them; you just have to hope they remember your teachings and follow the right path. Zac, in his teenage naivety, took twists and turns his parents weren’t aware of, with disastrous consequences. Rachelle and Matthew Brettler’s loss cuts so deep because it could happen to anyone.

Compelling and gritty, it had me on the edge of my seat, and I couldn’t put it down. If you read any book this year, it needs to be this one.

Have you read London Falling? If so, what did you think?

Laura x

I blame the cover of Yesteryear. Those on-trend matcha tones, the artistic, Vogue-style profile shot, and the uber-cool, modern font? Who can blame me. Aesthetical jokes aside, everyone is talking about this book, so I swiftly invested in time for my annual summer holiday.

A true easy read, in lament terms, the plot is focused around protagonist Natalie, a Ballerina Farm-esque influencer who presents her life on her multimillion dollar ranch as an idyllic montage of baking bread from scratch, smocked dresses, and parenting her adorable brood of children without screens. A devout Christian, she plays the ‘trad wife’ role extremely well, and has accumulated millions of Instagram followers in the process.

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But behind the scenes, like most things in life, all is not what it seems. For one thing, Natalie has two live-in nannies to help her bring up her five children, as well as a camera crew and producer. And funnily enough, she has a microwave and a dishwasher in her 18th century ‘authentic’ kitchen, all hidden away from her fans.

Natalie is not particularly likeable and Caro Claire Burke depicts her as an individual who’s unashamedly obsessed with her online persona, but also someone who struggles with taking care of multiple children and the huge mental load motherhood brings.

Throughout the chapters, this seemingly perfect life unravels and Natalie wakes up one day to discover she is actually now living in the 1855, with five kids she doesn’t recognise, and an older version of her current husband Caleb, who proceeds to abuse her, while she works herself to the bone.

The reader is made to think that Natalie is part of some MTV Punk’d sketch, or perhaps a strange reality show.

🚨SPOILER ALERT 🚨

Although I enjoyed the pace of the story, and the undeniably clever way the plot unfolded, as well as the modern connotations surrounding content creators and the fake, aspirational lifestyle they often convey, I felt the ending was whipped up far too quickly, resulting in a bit of a let-down. It turns out that Natalie discovers her husband is having an affair with her Instagram producer, Shannon, who confesses all to her. Natalie physically assaults her employee in anger, who swiftly proceeds to sell her out to a famous cable channel, leaving her essentially canceled thereafter.

This affects her mental state so much, that she chooses to destroy her palatial home and revert to the true traditional trad wife ethos her fake life is based on, literally living in a time warp. Her children are taken off her, due to charges of neglect, and she proceeds to have five more. Eventually, her eldest daughter Clementine returns to the ranch, and takes Natalie’s remaining children from her, who are screaming and crying for their mother as they leave.

Natalie is swiftly thrown in jail, and it ends with her giving a televised interview to a former college nemesis, Reena, and her sweet daughter Mary, writing an autobiographical book on her experiences living on the ranch.

I found the ending deeply disappointing and downright annoying. For one thing, the alternative universe felt like something from Black Mirror, a little unbelievable for my liking, as well as being rather anticlimactic.

Also, I actually ended up feeling rather sorry for Natalie even though she is rather moronic. Don’t hate me and hear me out. Yes, she was vacuous and obsessed with her online persona, but I disliked the way she was ultimately painted as a horrendous mother and charged with neglect, when the reader doesn’t really see any instances of her behaving this way. Yes, the children were controlled by the strict ethos of homeschooling and living a somewhat performative life on screen, which feels awful. But I feel that is all the reader is shown in regards to her parenting skills.

Did I miss something? Please do enlighten me.

Yes, she got deeply (and wrongly) embroiled with the fake world of Instagram and her legions of followers, but in her slight defense, she did hire nannies and did show her children affection throughout the book. We see her giving birth, breastfeeding her children and taking them to Target. Granted, it’s not how I would ever parent, and I don’t condone her choices at all, but was she really that bad to have all her kids taken from her? Did she hit them? Emotionally bully them? Starve them? No. So, I felt like this anecdote was a little out of the blue and confusing. But then, perhaps this was yet another thing Natalie was hiding, just like her live-in staff and dishwasher.

I felt like Natalie was demonised, and her layabout husband appeared to get off lightly, despite his infidelity. He even has a cheerleader in Shannon, who fails to apologise to Natalie on any level for her deceit.

Natalie is truly lambasted at the end of the book; she’s completely dethroned and has hit rock bottom, having her arch enemy from school interview her as a felon, and it felt like she was being punished to the highest degree, without any deep clarification as to why.

To me, it felt like yet another case of a woman being made to be the bad guy, when truthfully, was she really? Or was she a victim of the toxic online world of influencing, infused with severe mental health issues?

Have you read Yesteryear? I would LOVE to know your thoughts!

Laura x

Isn't it funny how one simple, fleeting smell can transport you back to a particular time in your life in a matter of milliseconds?

I picked up the Wild Rhubarb & Raspberry soap the other day, and after I unwrapped the packaging and smelt it, I instantly thought of The Body Shop and one of their most prolific lines, Animals in Danger.

Millennial women, I KNOW you remember this ingenious collection of tropical-smelling soaps and bubble baths, wrapped in colorful, attractive packaging, aimed at the pre-teen market that were too young to apply makeup and dabble in skincare.

I was the biggest fan. My mum would allow me to purchase a new soap each week, or perhaps a bubble bath if I had received good marks in my spelling test at school. Oh, the excitement!

I distinctively remember walking through the iconic green doors of my local store, and selecting my personal treat of the week.

Looking back, the Animals in Danger range was such a great transitional invention for young girls. It was a way for them to enjoy a very low grade form of vanity without stepping the mark into adulthood too early. Age-appropriate and subtle, it also had an incredible, educational message - raising awareness of the depleting animals in the wild that were vastly becoming extinct, from the green turtle to the great humpback whale.

The cosmetic debate amongst tweenagers is an ongoing, highly topical conversation. In case you're unaware, a ‘tweenager’ is the name sometimes given to children from about the age of ten onwards, before they hit their elusive teenage years.

This is often the time when this age bracket becomes curious about the wonderful world of beauty and rightly so! It’s only natural, and there's nothing wrong with it. I can recall visiting my grandmother a couple of times a year and watching her in bewilderment, as she popped on her makeup in front of her dressing table. However, she always made it very clear that I didn't need makeup; I was far too young, she said, and this is something that ladies do as they “get older."

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As a result of this, as I hit secondary school, for the first few years anyway, I was perfectly content with a little bit of clear lip balm, a Clean and Clear face wash and perhaps a dab of concealer on my spots (hello puberty.)

It's very easy for me to say this, of course, because I grew up in an era where there was absolutely no social media. Young girls, in particular, are exposed to various TikTok trends and Instagram hashtags through their school peers, without picking up a phone themselves. It's not their fault. This is where skincare exposure comes in.

There are a multitude of tutorials performed by pre-teenage girls online. It's understandably interesting to the young, impressionable viewer. A person of a similar age to them applies various lotions and potions from attractive bottles that look aesthetically pleasing. None of us are exempt from the power of skincare, and that incudes eleven-year-olds.

I also sometimes feel sorry for the brands that are often held accountable for creating an attractive outer shell. But the packaging of beauty products has always been big business, even before the days of social media. You’ve always found colourful and attractive products littering the aisles in Boots. After all, everyone wants something that looks gorgeous on their bathroom shelf. Colour evokes instant happiness, no matter what age you are.

As the mother of a daughter, I have to confess, I find it completely and utterly horrifying. Little girls have got their entire lives to apply makeup, get facials, invest in a skincare routine and use red light therapy.

Of course, my daughter hasn't reached this age yet, which is why I don't want this to sound like I'm being overtly lecturing without having truly experienced her tweenage milestone myself.

I, more than anyone, know the sheer joy that beauty products can bring. As a journalist, I constantly write about beauty trends and try out products for articles, and I thoroughly enjoy it. From fabulous packaging that evokes so much dopamine into your life after one twist of a lid, to doing a deep dive into an ingredient list, to simply the way a product makes you feel after application, there is no reason why young girls can't be a part of this, just not too young. What on earth is a thirteen-year-old doing applying a supreme product that contains retinol? It's absolutely ludicrous.

For the pre-teen market, I feel like beauty products should be treated in a fun way, which is why I think we are really missing the Animals in Danger range. This was the perfect bridge for young girls to take a step into the world of beauty without obliterating their youth.

The Body Shop, if you're reading this, I think we could all do with a dose of strawberry bubble bath and those delicious collections of soaps. I'm still dreaming of the coconut polar bear. Anyone else?

Although it pains me that the trend for uber-thinness has cemented itself back into mainstream media after a somewhat long (ish) hiatus (thank you J.Lo and Kim K for your invaluable representation in the noughties), being thin is definitely back, and to tell you the truth, I think it’s really bloody sad.

I’m not body-shaming here. I have loads of gorgeously naturally thin pals who look SO GOOD. It’s how their frames are supposed to be, and it suits them. And what’s more, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t envy them at times. But I’m talking about people who feel that pressure to look thin when their bodies don’t actually want to be. It takes serious work.

It’s everywhere you turn right now, from celebrities to influencers to the girl in your local nail salon. This about-turn may have something to do with the rise in the availability of weight-loss drugs, but I’m not here to put my two pennies in on that. Each to their own, truly.

Body image politics aside, it really is okay to be curvy, you know. Kinda chic, in fact. (Hehe, don’t you just love Instagram trends.) Women should celebrate the female form they were born with, and the best way to do that is to learn how to dress it properly. Give your body the respect it deserves with the wonderful world of fashion.

As a 12/14 gal with big boobs and hips that are, to put it politely, child-bearing, these are the tips and tricks I’ve picked up from writing about fashion for over fifteen years.

Buy a decent bra.

This is such a simple one, but it’s VITAL. Wearing a bra that’s too small (or too big) will seriously change how you look in clothes.

No one needs to see a double boob situation, or a bra that makes you appear like gravity just kicked in. A great bra uplifts those kerdonkadonks and streamlines the shape, giving you the support you need. Go into M&S and ask to be measured by a professional. You won’t regret it! I love cotton uplifting bras from George at Asda, Nudea and Skims.

You can wear body-con; just size up

Contrary to what your intrusive thoughts may tell you, the body-con dress isn’t just for gals with zero fat. In fact, a close-fitting frock defines your shape, accentuating that elusive curved silhouette as the fabric sits alongside your body, without swamping it.

I always get the next size up when body-con is on my agenda, which can be more forgiving if you’re self-conscious. If you’re really concerned about looking sculpted, shapewear can really help pull you in, but don’t feel the pressure. No one cares as much as you.

Stay away from baggy clothes

You need to be careful with voluminous threads when you have curves. Why? Because they can make you look bigger than you actually are. All that fabric may make you appear as if you’re the width of your hips and bust all over.

Case in point: something happened to me recently. I purchased a cosy cotton, oversized sweatshirt and shorts set. Not my usual style ethos (I detest sportswear normally), but I needed something casual for travelling. Anyway, the combination of donning two baggy separates made me look massive. It was just too much shapeless energy. So I switched out the sweatshirt for a close-fitting, crew-neck T-shirt and I genuinely looked two stone slimmer.

A belt is your new bestie

I have a plethora of belts, and they really have saved the day at times. A belt is the ideal accessory for the curvy girl because it adds instant definition.

Wearing a skinny belt under the bust creates a definite hip-to-waist ratio, and equally, a low-slung, chunky belt on the hips pulls the attention down with streamlined aplomb. Belted styles like trench coats or even trousers with a belt attached create visual balance and even out your proportions.

The only way is tailored

Tailored clothes move with you, not against you; they look classic and elegant no matter what the occasion. A pair of trousers or a blazer with an almost thoughtful cut will glide over your curves, making you appear smarter and more expensive-looking if you ask me.

Tailoring subtly manipulates the contours of your body. Start with a blazer that has a double-breasted cut, which will almost strap you in, albeit comfortably, optimising your shape. Same with tailored trousers; that smooth cut makes your legs appear longer.

Don’t be embarrassed by a natural-born womanly shape. It’s ridiculously cool. Be proud of the fact that you’re not giving in to fleeting body trends and ridiculous societal norms. Have fun with fashion and work with what you have. It really is that simple.

Laura x

However, the sexist connotations surrounding them never really left the mainstream media. Depicted as airheads due to the supposed frivolous spending of their husbands’ money and their vacuous demeanor, this image was wholeheartedly pushed to the max.

Times appear to have moved on, albeit ever-so-slightly. WAGs of 2026 have degrees, their own careers and businesses, and definitely aren’t as chastised as Victoria Beckham, Cheryl Cole, Coleen Rooney and co were. This is probably due to the arrival of social media.

Instagram meant that high-profile people could present themselves how they wish online, and as a result, live much more private lives that are controlled and curated.

But the original notion remains, and their appearances are still pulled apart daily. Surely, if you’re married to a footballer, you have to be thin and perfect-looking, right?

Look at the abuse Lauren Fryer, Declan Rice’s long-term partner, received. The barrage of abuse she experienced when pictures of her aboard a yacht were posted, looking like any woman, was abhorrent. Since that shameless vitriol, her Instagram profile remains blank, and she appears to have retreated from public life.

Step up, Georgina Rodríguez, fiancée of the mighty Cristiano Ronaldo. The picture-perfect couple have been together for a decade and share a brood of adorable children.

Stunningly beautiful, with a jaw-dropping designer wardrobe to match, Georgina is polished and fits that typical, glamorous, somewhat stereotypical WAG aesthetic.

However, after being seen enjoying herself on holiday in a bikini, legions of saddo trolls called her fat. Even though it’s 2026, people think it’s still acceptable to comment on women’s bodies so publicly. The amount of gross, derogatory comments about her shape that circulated actually blew my mind. Calling her toned, enviably healthy physique fat. Really?

Is it any wonder that there’s been a global increase in eating disorders worldwide when a healthy woman gets torn apart like this? As a mother of a daughter, it makes me scared for her future.

But this is nothing new. It happens ALL the time. What is different, though, is her response.

Hitting back and using her 77-million-platform as a beacon of hope, she defiantly shared a plethora of images of her incredible physique, and her words were a true mic-drop moment.

“Lately, I’ve seen all kinds of comments about some photos of me on a boat. Some people comment on my body, while others defend me. I was talking about it with Cris and said: ‘It worries me that people are calling me fat now, because I make a living from my image’.”

She added further down: “A person’s worth can never depend on their physical appearance or the opinions of strangers. The funny thing is, this happens every summer. Every year, my body becomes a headline. I ask myself, ‘Where is the standard? Who decides what the ‘right’ body is? Do we really still think happiness comes in a specific size?’”

I love how, instead of loathing her body, after such disdain from others, she holds it in the highest regard. “I love my curves,” she declared, “I love the freedom of living in the body I choose. In the body that sustains me - that has allowed me to embrace others, create life, fall down, and get back up again. A body that deserves respect, love, and gratitude in every version of itself.” She added: “For me, true success has never been about fitting into a standard that no one knows who invented. True success is living in peace. Surrounding myself with the people I love. Enjoying time with my family and friends. Taking care of my health. Laughing. Learning. Living. And it is.”

It’s such a big deal when someone who is this famous shuts down the noise in such a huge way. The good she has done for women all over the world, in an era when GLP-1 usage is rife and being unnaturally thin is cool again, is invaluable. Some may call her vacuous, with that door-knocker diamond engagement ring, her myriad of Hermès bags, and private jets galore. However, that public speech on learning to love your body is anything but. One may say it’s almost humanitarian, with a 37-carat edge, of course.

Thank you for reading,

Laura x

Although the storyline and ending were nothing short of predictable, I loved the Nancy Meyers aesthetic and the warm, fuzzy feeling it evoked. I also thought Dennis Quaid and Natasha Richardson made one very cool set of parents.

I recently watched it with my own children, and both of them were captivated by the 1998 masterpiece. My son loved the scene where Hallie and Annie precariously play poker, and my daughter giggled when Hallie puts on a posh accent when receiving a call from her twin after arriving in London.

Watching the film as an adult, though, I was profoundly captivated not by Lindsay this time, but by Natasha Richardson’s character of Elizabeth James, and of course, the villainess, Meredith Blake, played by Elaine Hendrix.

Elizabeth James

I’ll start with Natasha. Her portrayal of the abundantly elegant Elizabeth James was paramount. Her softly spoken voice, her incredible, ashy-blonde hair and French manicure were sublime. She had an air of Princess Diana about her - effortlessly classy.

A fashion designer who created high-end wedding dresses and lived in a Georgian townhouse, both her fashion credentials and her lifestyle were truly iconic. Her minimalistic approach to fashion had a definite luxurious edge, and it occurred to me that the character is a perfect example of how to create a highly coveted capsule wardrobe; everything she wore, despite the fact that the film was released 28 years ago, is in style today.

The film’s costume designer, Penny Rose, put together a plethora of neutrals when it came to Elizabeth James’ closet that simply oozed old money. The butterscotch-toned shift dress she dons when she greets her daughter after she returns from summer camp. The oversized raincoat that she effortlessly throws on when the heavens open. The versatile ballet flats, leather satchel and top-handled bag seen throughout various scenes. The silk PJs she dons while reading The Times in bed when she discovers that she is in the presence of Hallie, not Annie. Those oval-shaped sunnies that scream old Hollywood.

I also loved the simple little black dress she donned when she had a date with Nick (Dennis Quaid) on the boat.

And lastly, the way she switches from quintessential English socialite to Ralph Lauren poster girl, in her button-down linen shirt and jeans when she arrives in Napa.

Meredith Blake

We have to talk about Meredith Blake, the pantomime dame who everyone loves to hate. Personally, I felt a bit sorry for her watching as an adult. Yes, she was mean, referencing boarding school on countless occasions, and it was clear that Nick’s money was a very attractive feature in her pursuit of him.

But. Those little girls were MEAN. Yes, they wanted their parents to get back together, and Mer was in the way, but can you imagine two eleven-year-olds making your life literal hell? Putting rocks in your bag, placing a gecko in your hair, and heck, chucking you in the lake on an inflatable bed? What also can’t be ignored is the fact that her hubby-to-be does nothing but smile good-naturedly at their behaviour. The mind boggles.

Her style though - it’s elite. A true ‘90s glamourpuss. That expensive-looking blonde haircut, the Marilyn-esque red lipstick, nestled in with a pricey wardrobe littered with designer essentials. The ever-gorgeous Elaine Hendrix presents her so well. Who can forget the character donning a Cartier Panthère watch, a Prada backpack, and luxe sportswear to go camping?

I love when, as a viewer, we are introduced to ‘Cruella’ for the first time - she’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a short white shift dress, tantalizingly set off by black Manolos.

Personally, I think both women’s styles are remarkably similar - they are sporting classic, timeless pieces that have truly stood the test of time. They aren’t rocking any colour, but a myriad of blacks, beige, navy and grey, framed with gold jewellery. The only subtle difference is that Meredith is slightly more daring, and her hemlines a little shorter - Elizabeth James would never.

Who is your best-dressed in The Parent Trap? Are you more of an Elizabeth when it comes to your wardrobe, or a Meredith?

Laura x

But. I also hate it.

I hate the fact that it simply has to come everywhere with me. I hate the fact I have to make sure it’s fully charged - like a baby that needs feeding. I hate the fact that I’m constantly reachable. I also hate the fact I constantly reach for it.

Over the past year or so, I’ve cut my screen time down to 2 hours 30 mins a day, max. And my GOSH, it’s been an effort.

Why did I decide to do this? Because of all of the above, but also, I genuinely felt like this stupid little device ran my world and I was sick of it. I wouldn’t say I was a phone addict, but having it with me at all times was a consistent behaviour that I practised, day in, day out.

Of course, I’m a journalist who works online, so I need to have my finger on the pulse; vital when pitching articles for my job. Regardless, it was reaching for it when I had nothing to do that got to me the most.

If I had a quiet moment in the day (as a mother of two, I admittedly don’t get many), I would instantly grab my phone and scroll. I didn’t think I was doing anything particularly wrong until I read an article on screen time, and realised that my illicit number was actually over four hours a day. Of course, this wasn’t in one sitting, but I couldn’t believe that so many precious moments were being tapped into this little lump of metal in my pocket.

I had a bit of a defining moment when I realised that my phone was actually disrupting my peace, too. One evening, after a hectic day at work and after putting my children to bed, I had a long, hot bath. Smothered myself in my Laura Mercier Ambre Vanille body lotion (if you know, you know) and popped on a pair of cotton PJs. Pure bliss personified if you ask me.

Then I came downstairs and had about twenty minutes of free time before my husband served up dinner (he’s an incredible cook, and he reads my Substacks, so shout-out to Mr K). Standard me, I picked up my phone and had a little downtime scroll.

I kid you not, my algorithm served me a cold platter of anxiety-inducing stuff in one hit.

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FOUR-YEAR-OLD DIES FROM DROWNING WHILE PARENTS SLEPT

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Panic hit me like a truck, and I spent the rest of that evening Googling all of the above. My husband took one look at me and said, “What’s wrong with you?” and I proceeded to tell him what I had seen and how depressed I instantly felt. After relaying this situation to him, it hit me that if I had just sat down and taken 5 minutes to - say, I don’t know, look out the window, pick up a book, paint my nails even- instead of reaching for my phone, I would have had a much more pleasant evening.

So I decided to change that, and I won’t lie, it was quite the task, but it actually was pretty simple once I thought about it. I simply trained myself not to pick it up. I chose not to engage. Like any compulsion, it’s basically down to you whether you give in to it or not, and I went cold turkey.

So when I sat down with the kids to watch Bluey after a long day of parenting, I’d leave my phone in the kitchen and watch those little blue dogs do their thing. And it was actually great - not only did I follow the story (which featured plenty of adult puns), I watched my kids giggle and laugh out loud at some of the jokes, and it was the cutest thing noticing their little faces.

When my husband and I devoured a Netflix documentary or a drama series, instead of reaching for my phone when the break was on, or to Google what else the actress had been in, I left my phone upstairs and just watched it. And we both ended up discussing the plot at length post-credits.

Online shopping - I used my laptop, made it more of an event! Annoying to get it out, but really, a click of a few buttons and you’re in. It’s not You’ve Got Mail; it’s 2026, and laptops are just as quick as phones if you think about it.

Bedtime was a hard one. Science tells us that blue light isn’t great pre-slumber, but we all do it, don’t we - have a quick scroll before we hit the sack. So, again, I left my phone in another room and reached for my book, while popping on my LED mask. I adore reading, but I always heard myself say I “never have time now I’ve got the kids,” and I decided to turn around that poor excuse. Since the start of this year, I’ve read 15 books and loved every second.

Once I enforced these habits, not only did I feel a huge sense of triumph seeing the hours deplete, I genuinely felt calmer. I wasn’t as engaged with the pesky device. I started noticing things more. On the train home from work, for instance. Normally, my head was down, deep in my phone, but I decided to actually look out the window. Sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Noticing a restaurant whizz past that I may like to try, how chic that girl looks in her vintage Burberry trench that just got on at Bellingham, I wonder where that woman’s shoes are from? Wow, did you just see that huge peony bush in that bloke’s garden he was watering? He could sell them for a fiver a bunch and make a mint…

I always felt I needed to reply to everyone in seconds, but we really don’t have to do that; our phones make us feel like we should. Taking a few hours a day to conduct a reply when you’ve got time is fine, you know, and no one is counting the milliseconds (and if they do, they aren’t a true pal).

Most of all, the level of peace I had was paramount. No more doomscrolling through accounts that serve me nothing but high levels of cortisol. Yes, I still LOVE a scroll, but I put a timer on - 15 mins or so, then I’m out. This had a great effect on my nervous system; I found other things to do that made me feel far more tranquil.

Do I still have days when my screen time erupts? Absolutely. But it’s far less.

Am I a better person? Without wanting to sound supercilious in any way, yes, I think I am. My outlook has shifted. I’m calmer, more present. The way I see it, life is actually truly gorgeous if you lift your head and pop that phone away.

What are your thoughts on screen time? I would love to know.

Laura x

Struggle and determination equate to faith and hope. And we all can appreciate someone who hasn’t had it easy.

I’ve long admired people who have had to work hard to overcome something, and like most things in life, it started as a child. I love movies that have heroic stories, and some of my favourite films I watched in my youth are filled with characters who have prevailed after some serious setbacks.

As my life has unfolded, I often think of these characters whenever I’m struggling with something, even though they are nearly all children. So here are my top 5, in no particular order. Any here that you can identify with, too?

Billy Elliot

Gosh, this film is powerful. A simple story, with a simple budget to match, it’s one of the most profound and moving plots you’ll ever encounter.

Eleven-year-old Billy has it hard. After losing his mother and attempting to navigate life after her passing, he takes a keen interest in ballet, even though in the early 80s, when the film was set, his tight-lipped father and sometimes toxic brother think boys should only pursue overtly masculine hobbies like boxing. Watching Billy display an incredible natural talent in secret is compelling, and I love how he shows that ballet is essentially hugely athletic and doesn’t have to be associated with tutus.

Watching his father, who finds the whole ethos of dancing absurd, come to terms with Billy’s supreme ability and the fact that he is willing to forgo the mining strike to get the cash to send Billy to ballet school, a world he knows nothing about, makes me well up every. single. time.

In the end, Billy makes it; he’s accepted into the Royal Ballet school and becomes a prolific dancer, bagging the lead role in Swan Lake when he reaches adulthood, despite the elitist connotations surrounding his profession and his truly humble beginnings. A true working-class hero.

Elle Woods

Ok, Legally Blonde was released when I was 15, and Elle Woods admittedly is around 21 when the movie was set, but her character is one I had an instant affinity with when I first watched it.

Elle is labelled as stupid within seconds of being introduced. Beautiful, kind, and bubbly, with a penchant for fashion, and not to mention stinking rich, people label her as an airhead from the get-go.

However, once you disarm her outer shell, she’s one of the kindest, most likeable protagonists. Treating people with respect, without judgment, and never being the bitchy bully, she attended law school even though people essentially thought she was thick, and told her so.

I have always found her such an empowering icon because she truly shatters the dumb blonde stereotype, showing that intelligence and ambition can coexist with sequins and hairspray.

I, too, have received condescending comments over the years because I work in the fashion industry and enjoy clothes, styling, and handbags. People assume you must be vacuous, not ‘serious,’ and have zero depth.

So, Elle, staying true to her authentic self throughout Legally Blonde, using her unique knowledge to nail a major murder trial, coupled with that stirring soundtrack, makes her one of the most fabulous underdogs in feminism.

Simba

Ok, this may make you snort, but just let me explain. The Lion King is one of those Disney films that is made predominantly for adults, in my humble opinion. The love story is pretty secondary; the focus is centred on Simba’s monumental bereavement and how he learns to overcome the loss and eventually prevail, although he has been emotionally abused since birth by his evil uncle Scar.

The reason he makes my underdog list is that he has to overcome severe emotional trauma and learn to move on despite his unprecedented guilt. When he decides, despite that little voice in his head telling him it’s all his fault, to return to Pride Rock and avenge his wicked relative, that steely determination is awe-inspiring.

The message from his father, “Remember who you are,” speaks to all of us, and his symbolic renewal is something we could all do well to remember, no matter what situations we face as adults.

Matilda

Oh Matilda. What can we say about this little girl, eh? I honestly think we can all learn so much from this fictional five-year-old. Roald Dahl’s masterpiece was the first proper fictional book I read, and I distinctly remember admiring her spirit right away.

Matilda Wormwood is the teeniest little dot of a girl, a child, but her strength is enormous. She is essentially a physically powerless infant fighting against abusive parents who have let her down. From her horrendously neglectful mother and father, who bully, taunt, and fail to recognise her incredible mind, to the tumultuous tyrant that is Miss Trunchbull.

Despite all this, she triumphs. No, she doesn’t have brute strength like Rocky, but that elusive mind of hers keeps her strong, and her self-taught belief and willingness to stay true to herself despite all those potentially harmful setbacks is mesmerising.

The way she keeps sane with literature is such a beautiful quality. I also love her depiction in the 1996 movie by Mara Wilson. When Matilda gets up and yells, “You can do it, Brucie!” - wow. That’s a metaphor I comically carry with me through many situations as a 40-year-old.

Harry Potter

Last but by no means least, we have the humble Harry. From the get-go, Harry is magnificent. His life could have turned out so badly; he could have fallen victim to his horrifying trauma, but he CHOSE not to. He opts to be good in a world that wants him to be bad.

Like all of my chosen underdogs, he endures a horrendous start. A neglected, abused orphan, he has it rough and has to fight systemic odds to survive.

Yes, he quickly finds out he’s the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ but he’s still just eleven years old. He doesn’t have the tools to harness what has been bestowed upon him, instead relying on unwavering courage, joyous friendships, and the ability to remain good to defeat Voldemort.

He gains popularity at school, but it doesn’t go to his head. I particularly love how he befriends Luna Lovegood, even though the entire student body thinks she’s weird. And when he saves his enemy, Draco Malfoy, at the last moment, because he can see some good in him. Despite not having traditional parental support, he never lets himself become bitter. He backs himself and has emotional depth that is beyond his years.

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For me, underdogs are my ultimate inspiration. When I hear a story of someone who has overcome something, no matter how big, despite obstacles, and come out the other side, it makes me want to genuinely cheer out loud. They haven’t given up. They’ve kept going. And that is enthralling, no matter who they are.

Who are your movie heroes? I would love to know!

Laura x

It’s one of those answers that requires a bit of a monologue. It wasn’t easy and, quite frankly, took years of hard work. But it was worth every single act of diligence.

I always adored writing and reading at school, and knew that I had to do something in the publishing remit. When I was old enough to devour magazines, I spent all of my pocket money on a selection of pre-teen glossies, from Bliss, Mizz, and Sugar, to Elle Girl when I was feeling fancy. Millennial girls, I know you’re nodding your heads.

Fast forward to university, where I studied English Literature, my downtime was spent studying all types of magazines; I would spend around £20 on purchasing every weekly you could think of - Now, Heat, Look, and of course, the monthlies - Vogue, Tatler, Marie Claire, Elle, and Harper’s Bazaar.

After I graduated, I took a job at a health spa as a receptionist as a stopgap, with the view that I would try to bag an internship on my days off. What I didn’t foresee was how unbelievably hard that would be. As Nigel said in The Devil Wears Prada, “A thousand girls would kill for that job,” and he was right. I would leaf through the back of my favourite titles, find a selection of contact emails, and send through my CV, politely begging to work for free. I very rarely heard anything back, and I knew why - journalists get mountains of emails from budding journalists asking for the exact same thing, day in, day out.

So, I started a blog and updated it regularly. It was an outlet for my writing and a way for me to keep my finger on the pulse as I continued trying to make connections to secure some work experience. I found my reception job pretty laborious, and I quickly felt quite disillusioned. How was I ever going to catch a break? Funnily enough, it was the job I disliked that led me to that elusive big break.

One lunch break, which was always spent the same way, leafing through my favourite magazine du jour and daydreaming over a cup of tea, a colleague mentioned that one of the members of the health club worked at Bella magazine as a Beauty Editor. Her name was Carly, and as it turned out, she and I had a great rapport. She was bubbly and funny, and we always had a little chat as I handed over her towels when she checked in for a swim. I was ecstatic! I kept an eye out for her for the next few weeks, but she didn’t come in. I got increasingly impatient, and then one evening, I had a brainwave, but it was risky.

I took Carly’s number from her client card on the computer and decided I would call her. Looking back now, this was incredibly bold; taking personal information could have warranted the sack, and rightly so. I wince when I think about it - it was so unprofessional. But, in my slight defence, life was different back then. Nowadays, people would drop someone a DM or a follow on Instagram, or find them on Facebook and message them. But back then, Facebook was in its infancy, having only just launched, and Instagram hadn’t been introduced. This was the only way (or so I convinced myself).

So, one evening, I wrote a little speech on the pink Post-it note next to the work phone and dialed Carly’s home number. I remember my heart hammering in my chest as it rang, and thankfully, she picked up. I knew instantly I had made the right call; Carly was as fabulous as ever and seemed really happy that I reached out. She said she had been on maternity leave but was heading back to work in a few weeks and would be happy for me to come in. I could NOT believe it and was overjoyed.

Reflecting on that time, I often wonder where that steely determination came from. I guess it all stemmed from childhood. Not to go all Freudian on you, but I hail from Kent, a notoriously grammar-school-populated county. In year six, I was advised to forgo the 11+. My teacher said that although I would ace the exam when it came to English (my best subject), my abysmal mathematics efforts would not prevail. So, I went to the local comprehensive. Although I absolutely loved school - genuinely the happiest days of my life - and excelled academically, I always wanted to succeed, because I ultimately felt rejected by the selective school system.

Anyway, my first day at Bella was everything I dreamed of. I walked into the busy office with my eyes wide open and loved every second. I sorted out the fashion cupboard, organised the beauty products, did some research for the team, and they even trusted me to go to a few press events! Carly and her team were so wonderful to me, and she promised me that if anything came up, she would give me a call. I was hooked, itching to get back there.

Returning to my reception job wasn’t the best; I had been introduced to what could be, and it was quite depressing. But it gave me the fuel to work even harder to get my dream. So, I started applying for internships once again. But this time, I had a new approach. Spurred on by my calling Carly all those months ago, I decided to phone the magazine offices, instead of emailing, as I knew it was something different that would make me stand out. I would leaf through the magazines until I reached the back page, note down the extension of the fashion team, and dial the number. My hunch was right; it always worked! My reception role helped me with this; I have always been good on the phone. The journalists I spoke to were surprisingly helpful, always saying yes once I had explained my stint at Bella.

What followed was a list of internships. Even though I was full-time at the spa, I used my annual leave to work for free at some of the most well-known publications in the world, including Condé Nast Brides, Tatler, Red, the Evening Standard, and Closer. I gained invaluable experience, and even though all that was offered was usually a £10 a day travel credit (my ticket from Kent was £18), I didn’t care. The work was not glamorous, and often I would be making tea and doing all the jobs no one else wanted to do. I remember at one establishment, I had to get to the office before anyone else and pick up the biggest stack of newspapers you ever saw, balance them on my fingertips, and take the stairs up to the fourth floor of the magazine, as the lift wasn’t working. Another time, I was sent on a hunt all over London for a pack of authentic Turkish Delight. Don’t ask. I knew it was a means to an end, and I happily did it, with great aplomb. I was an intern! I often pinched myself as I took the train home each day.

Soon after, Carly contacted me and asked me if I fancied coming in one day a week to help out on the beauty desk. I didn’t need to be asked twice. On my days off at the spa, I was in the Bella office doing filing, photocopying, returns, and I even wrote the odd page! I remember it to this day, my first was a diet swaps page, and seeing my name in print was genuinely a feeling I couldn’t explain.

I was working a six-day week, five at the spa and one day at the magazine. It was tiring, and I was shattered, but it didn’t matter. I was in the right place and was brimming over with gratefulness that I got that opportunity. I knew if I was going to make it in this business, one that was spectacularly known for its elitism, I was going to have to put in the work, with no leg up. I didn’t have a private school education like some, or rich parents like others. I had to make it happen myself.

Then one day, after a particularly long day dealing with irritable customers, and after almost a year of juggling my reception job and internship, I had a missed call, with an accompanying voicemail on my phone. A fashion assistant role had come up at Bella, and would I like to interview?

The rest, as they say, is history.

I will never forget how it all started, and without sounding cliché or like someone giving a motivational speech, as much as I knew I was capable and had a strong passion for fashion, it was my hard work and perseverance that ultimately landed me where I am today. And it paid off in the end, more than I could have ever imagined.

These days, journalism, like everything, has changed. Internships are now often paid positions and are advertised, whereas when I was young, you often had to find them yourself through almost investigative work. If you are hoping to break into journalism, particularly fashion, I would say that a Substack or blog is a great way to showcase your work and ensure you update it regularly. Know your trends and what’s en vogue, educate yourself instead of doom-scrolling. Invest time in curating a professional, engaging Instagram account and apply for every internship you can - and if you score one, be helpful, willing, and don’t be afraid to get stuck in. Good luck!

Pamela Anderson ruled the ‘90s celebrity circuit. The second most famous blonde (I think we can all agree Marilyn Monroe takes the top spot), from her legendary stint on Baywatch to her risque red-carpet appearances, her look was ultra-glamorous and famously synthetic. Even though she was actually a pretty good actress, she was predominantly known as the world’s number one sex symbol. Most people can recall Pam’s sultry demeanour - tumbling peroxide blonde hair, pumped-up boobs, string bikinis, and of course, copious amounts of heavy, outlandish makeup.

It was actually her makeup that always fascinated me the most. That overtly made-up look worked; everyone fancied the Playboy legend. The ultimate rebellious Barbie, she was never without that deep tan, heavy-rimmed smoky eyes, frosted lipstick, and, of course, those overlined lips, way before Kylie Jenner was even born.

There was absolutely a place for that look, and it appeared that Pamela revelled in this label. She was known for it, and sadly, not much else.

So when she announced in 2023 that she had quit makeup, I nearly choked on my tea. What? There’s no way. She could never, surely?

Well, she did. I remember it well. The former wife of Mötley Crüe rocker Tommy Lee strolled through Paris Fashion Week, rocking a Vivienne Westwood coat and matching hat, and famously donned a bit of rosehip oil on her face, and not much else. I could not believe it. And neither could the rest of the world.

Can you imagine the sheer bravery that must have taken? Even though it’s safe to say that most guests there would have been twenty years younger (Pamela is 59 next month), she took it all in her stride when everyone else had a professional makeup artist waiting in the wings. I was enamoured by her fresh, youthful and glowing appearance, but for me, her decision to rock zero makeup in a sea of poised perfection was nothing short of pioneering.

In a world of Instagram filters, AI, plastic surgery, tweakments galore, and the depressing trend that you need to change yourself to be valued, Pamela boldly went against it, abandoning the sex symbol look that we all associated her with. People criticised her, of course, said an abundance of scathing comments, but she kept going and has been rocking the natural look ever since - from the Golden Globes red carpet to big ad campaigns. This gives such a strong message to women of all ages, and I think it’s not only refreshing but hugely important.

If Pamela Anderson, Hollywood’s ultimate femme fatale, can have the guts to go makeup-free on a worldwide stage, then why the hell can’t you?

We need more people like Pamela. The harsh truth is that the vacuous world of celebrity culture drips down to ‘normal’ people. When I was in my early twenties, it was just the Hollywood elite who were getting plastic surgery, and Botox was in its infancy. Fast forward to 2026, and you can get injected in your local salon on your lunch break. None of this is wrong, and I’m certainly not throwing shade on tweakments; I know many who dabble and look absolutely stunning. I just think women especially need help to feel comfortable in their raw, natural states. In December, Pamela poignantly said, “I look like my Instagram photos every day.” How many of us can truly say this, too?

Of course, it’s worth noting that Pamela is a stereotypical stunning woman. A model from an early age and a millionaire many times over, she has never-ending finances to indulge in high-tech daily facials, and she may also enjoy various aesthetic enhancements. Regardless, though, she regularly walks the red carpet with nothing on her face, showing the occasional blemish, dark circles, and skin that isn’t always perfectly preened. And she looks INCREDIBLE. I think she’s luminous and drop-dead gorgeous.

“I do feel free, and it was a choice,” she told the Today Show. “I feel great. I feel good in my own skin.”

Amen to that, Pammy.

My friend giggled and said, “We’re such old ladies these days, aren’t we?” and I couldn’t help but agree as I sipped my caramel macchiato.

It got me thinking - a lot of my hobbies lately could be classified as old-lady-esque, and quite frankly, I’m here for it. Unashamedly so.

As I reflected on this notion, I realised these pastimes give me so much joy, which equates to serious contentment.

1. Reading

I have always been what one may call an avid reader. From an early age, I’ve devoured many a book. Matilda was always one of my heroes growing up (praise be to Roald Dahl.)

Alas, I kind of abandoned my literary pursuits for girls’ nights out in my twenties. My fast-paced life in London during my early years in fashion journalism meant that I was always heading out to pretty much every store opening, party and dinner, leaving my books at home, lonely on the shelf.

Now, though, I find reading a form of therapy. I am a fiction fan first and foremost, enjoying chick lit as well as murder mysteries and historical fiction, with a sprinkling of the odd self-help masterpiece, like The Let Them Theory. Books have always stayed in their lane, quietly surviving in a world where tech rules all. This shows how much we truly need them, and as Stephen King wisely said, “Books are a uniquely portable magic.”

2. Baking

I took up baking during the very first lockdown - it was something I could actively do at home, and I really enjoyed taking some time for myself to create something from scratch. There is just something about a kitchen filled with the sweet aroma of a cake, not to mention the anticipation of how it will turn out - will it rise? Will it have a soggy bottom? Will it taste good?

Another therapeutic hobby; if I’m ever anxious or nervous, baking just takes me away from it all, for a few stolen hours or two. There’s always an occasion for cake - be it a cup of tea with a friend, a birthday or Valentine’s Day, the list is endless. Every Sunday, I try to bake something for my family to enjoy after our lunch together, and it genuinely evokes such a warm feeling within me. Priceless.

3. Watching nature programmes

I cannot quite believe I have written the above. I sound about 107. But hear me out. I would like to point out that I love nothing more than a hard dose of trash TV. MAFS, At Home With The Furys, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills (I interviewed Kyle Richards once, she was the coolest), and don’t get me started on documentaries - Louis Theroux’s Manosphere was a great watch, as was Sean Combs: The Reckoning (50 Cent is the undercover feminist we all need in my humble opinion), but recently, I’ve tuned into David Attenborough’s Secret Garden and I cannot tell you how calming it was, and not to mention utterly fascinating.

It was actually rather nice to observe a show where all and sundry aren’t yelling at each other at the tops of their lungs. The stark change was thought-provoking and, in all honesty, fabulous.

4. Enjoying nature

As a Kent girl, born and raised, I have always had a soft spot for nature - after all, they don’t call it the ‘Garden of England’ for nothing, you know. We’ve got rolling hills, picturesque coastlines, and miles of woodland areas to enjoy. But I didn’t really notice it fully until, once again, lockdown.

There was nothing to do but go outside, and walking with my baby son in his pram became a daily occurrence that stopped me from going stir crazy.

One afternoon, I took a stroll through a row of cherry blossom trees in my local park whilst my little boy was snoozing, and my goodness, I still remember how gloriously fragrant those blooms were, not to mention their exquisite pastel hues. I took a look around at the huge open space - the full trees, the grass, the all-encompassing wildlife in general, and I thought, wow, this is totally free. It was like a spring awakening (quite literally), and I’ve really appreciated the great outdoors in all its forms ever since. Some may call it medicine. I encourage my children to do the same - we love embracing the natural world, and it’s become an integral part of our lives.

5. Vintage shopping

So this one is pretty recent, and it’s truly ‘grannycore’ personified. Foraging in an antique shop, to see what treasure I can find, is so addictive. When it comes to interiors and furnishings, I’m over the oh-so-predictable, clinical movement. I want something with character, something more robust and individual. Vintage trinkets are always original and often hold an element of history. The same goes for vintage handbags, which I also love - there’s a story behind every pre-loved designer bag you buy - and the sustainable element is off the scale.

I’m sure to some, this post will make me sound incredibly boring. But I can honestly say these hobbies have given me such a dopamine hit that has consistently continued. They are comforting to my mental health and bringing me peace; it’s almost like they gently steer me towards being more present and help me to appreciate the little things in life.

None of these hobbies is particularly elaborate or expensive - (apart from the designer handbag hunt, I’ll never change on that one, he he) and if that makes me an old lady, so be it. We all know that older people are some of the coolest and most interesting of all.

Do any of you have ‘old lady’ hobbies that you enjoy? I’d love to know!

Laura x

And I couldn’t be more thankful. I’m privy to a life before smartphones, and to me, that’s sacred. But am I better off, mentally, than my more youthful peers?

I grew up in a society where women’s magazines quite literally ruled the world. And the narrative of some of those publications was, without a doubt, savage.

Magazines in the early ‘90s could print pretty much anything they desired. Outfits were openly rated hit or miss, women were being called fat daily, and the beauty trends were outlandishly unattainable. ‘Health’ tips were often centred around losing weight, and the detrimental way women were sometimes labelled was blatant body shaming at its finest.

So, yes, I missed the social media perils of today, but in their place was the sometimes toxic subculture around women and absurd beauty ideals, which some may argue was just as prolific. Because of this, I feel that some of those beauty standards have been ingrained in my ethos ever since. But, it occurred to me the other day, as a grown woman of 40, that I’ve pretty much abandoned every single one of them, and what’s more, I’ve genuinely never been happier.

Check out my list⬇️

1. Always having long hair

Look, long hair is fabulous. There’s no denying it. Feminine, swishy and a sign of youth, the way it moves can be rather entrancing, particularly if it’s thick. During the early ‘90s, waist-length hair was at its peak. Everyone from Cindy Crawford to the girls from Hollyoaks sported princess-like manes, myself included. But just like Ariel from The Little Mermaid, it was also pretty unrealistic. Perfect hair that grows and appears like yarn can take years to perfect, and what’s more, most celebrities that I admired spent thousands on hair extensions, which we now know can be damaging to the scalp.

I spent all my surplus cash from my Saturday job on having bonded hair extensions applied, and when I was ‘in between’ appointments, I also had clip-in pieces that I purchased online. I was terrified of having shorter hair, thinking it would make me look like a man and not ‘womanly’ enough. Sad, isn’t it?

Recently, I saw how chic the French bob looked on Instagram and my hairdresser, Paul, persuaded me to take the plunge. I now have a sleek style that finishes just past my ears, and it actually flatters my face shape way more than my long locks ever did.

2. Wearing fake tan, always

I genuinely could write a book on the topic of fake tan. As a naturally born redhead, I have always had fair skin, and for many years, it bothered me a little. Growing up, a healthy glow was always both admired and promoted - sunbeds and fake tan were hugely celebrated back in the day. From the age of around 18, fake tan became an integral part of my beauty routine. The art of applying the always odd-smelling concoction made me feel so much more confident, even though it was wildly unnatural and only looked great for around 48 hours max. Jennifer Lopez and Kim Kardashian’s olive-toned complextions were widely desired when I was younger, and this notion stayed with me for many years. One fateful evening, around two years ago, I began the laborious process of applying fake tan, and I just thought - ‘WHY am I doing this?’

After being inspired by pale-skinned women such as Mel from Virgin River, Jessica Chastain and Emma Stone, I decided to jack it in. Go cold turkey. Although it took a little exposure therapy - going to social events, having my photograph taken as a pale-skinned girly next to tanned people - I eventually got used to seeing my skin in all its natural glory, and I’ve grown to love it. Plus, I don’t get that tell-tale tidal wave of tan around the neckline of all my clothes now, and my bedsheets are actually intact. Winning!

3. Constantly having painted nails

It’s been about a year since I visited the salon for a gel manicure. I always felt that having painted nails was the ultimate in beauty sophistication. Nail art was huge growing up, and the notion of not wearing anything on your talons was deemed lazy and unkempt.

It’s taken a while, but I haven’t applied one scratch of polish for ages, and a magical thing has happened - my nails actually have grown to a pretty impressive length. And no, that doesn’t mean I’ve neglected self-care - I still buff my nails, apply copious amounts of hand cream and oil, and I regularly trim my cuticles and file them. They still appear neat and polished, and as a result, I no longer have to set aside time and money to get them tended to.

4. Never going makeup-free

The bare-faced makeup movement coincides with the beloved ‘Clean Beauty’ ethos, and this is something I think just wasn’t explored much when I was younger. Today, numerous hashtags are trending on social media, encouraging women to feel comfortable sans cosmetics, and I applaud it, because in my youth, the more makeup, the better. I would never have dreamed of going anywhere without makeup; rather like the nail vibe, it almost felt lazy and daunting to let anyone see me in my natural state. Maybe it’s part of becoming a mother and being pushed for time, but I can safely say I do not care who sees me these days when I have no makeup on. Seeing women like Pamela Anderson, who was a widely adored pinup when I was growing up, peel back the layers and go makeup-free, is pioneering and shows that anyone can overhaul that deep, ingrained feeling they’ve held on to for years.

5. Being skinny

This is such a sensitive topic, but I do feel that a lot of millennial women are haunted by the ‘90s skinny celebration. It’s hard to believe that ‘plus size’ was categorised as anyone over a size 12 back then, and women were consistently tormented in the pages of some magazines for being larger than a size 8. ‘Heroin Chic’ was a beacon for many - the ultimate ‘thinspiration’ ideal that numerous women aspired to.

These days, there is much more body diversity in mainstream media. Although there is still a hell of a long way to go, these days, the pool for women to be themselves is far, for want of a better word, bigger. There’s now a myriad of influencers, of all shapes and sizes, projected onto our feeds, and some fashion brands have even started to carry a variety of sizes, not just the standard 8,10,12 of the early 2000s.

For me, I’ve accepted over the years that my natural body shape is curvaceous. I have hips, boobs and a bum. I’m definitely not thin, but that’s ok. I know how to dress for my shape, I know what suits me, and I eat a great, nourishing diet, and exercise for my health. Counting calories and wishing for my frame to be smaller is quite simply a waste of my precious time. Without wanting to sound like a self-help book, I’m so at peace with my body and appreciate all it’s done for me, which feels so freeing.

In conclusion, I’m not saying that I’ll never embrace some of these millennial beauty ideals again, but they aren’t something that I subscribe to in the same way anymore. Quite simply, I feel like I’ve moved on from them, almost like a distant memory that’s become fuzzy.

I would love to know if any readers feel the same?

If you’ve got to the bottom of this page, I salute you!

Laura x

I have to say, sequels have never really been my jam - can they ever really compete with the original? From the legendary Only Fools and Horses remake, where Del Boy and Rodney lose their millions, to Grease 2 without Danny Zuko and Sandy (scandalous), they are often a disappointment. And don’t get me started on And Just Like That. Although I’d like to subtract the Toy Story franchise from this. Insanely good, no notes.

This explains why I was a little apprehensive about devouring The Devil Wears Prada 2. The original film quite literally spoke to me in my early twenties, when I was a hopeful intern, desperate to break into the world of fashion journalism. I always felt such an affinity with Andy Sachs, even though her wardrobe pre-Nigel’s makeover was rather questionable (no hate, but those duck-toed loafers in the first scene - yeuch.)

Despite all this, when I saw the film on Wednesday evening, I was bubbling over with excitement. I squealed when Miranda Priestly stepped onto the red carpet at the première. Sleek, stylish, and commanding serious fashion clout, she looked the same despite the 20-year hiatus. And of course, the earnest Anne Hathaway appeared younger than ever (how DOES she do it?!).

The plot is easy to follow and flows well; Andy has been given the boot from her broadsheet newspaper job, and to cut a long story short, is head-hunted by Runway to renovate the fashion features team. Miranda is just as formidable as ever, and Nigel hasn’t lost any of his commanding spark and quick wit. There are copious references to the original - the cafeteria, the corn chowder, and of course, that cerulean sweater (although it’s been modified).

But for me, the message in the film really hit home - it was an astute display of just how much the world has changed. Two decades ago, when the first film landed in cinemas, printed magazines were the main way that we all consumed media. Instagram arrived in 2010, four years after the first film rolled. The digital age was in its infancy.

I couldn’t help but notice that every character is almost surgically attached to their phone at all times, and the scrolling sound and iPhone beeps are heard at every interval. Andy writes an incredible first piece of work for Runway.com, and no one appears to read it, despite the fact that it’s great. The wider team remarks that it’s ‘not exciting enough’ for people to click and is quickly labelled a dud. Every character wants to remain relevant, and you feel their struggle.

As the movie continues, we see more and more references to budget cuts, disappointing traffic, and the world’s seemingly disregard for traditional media. The champions of the film, Miranda, Nigel, Andy, and Emily, find themselves in a sticky situation where their jobs are on the line, and they are quite literally at the mercy of the billionaires and their ultimate takeover. Andy steers the ship and screams the message that we “NEED JOURNALISTS!” but it appears to fall short.

One part really tugged at my heartstrings. Miranda gives an earnest monologue to (let’s call him ‘suit guy’, as not to spoil the plot) on how dedicated she is to her craft and expertly talks about her iconic experience, and quickly she’s shot down, told that AI will replace everyone in the end anyway. Ouch.

It’s not all bad, though. Although The Devil Wears Prada 2 puts a spotlight on the publishing industry, serving up a platter of cold, hard realism, it does generate hope. Like any sector, being pivotal is key. Life moves on and is ever-changing, no matter what your profession. You have to go with it, adapt, and give it your all - something the protagonists ultimately do conquer in the end.

Whether you work in the fashion industry or not, you’ll love the resplendent array of clothes, the iconic New York skyline, the incredible soundtrack and the fabulous injection of glamour and sass. It’s not a patch on the original, but A+ for effort. That’s all.

Laura x

As a fashion journalist, I’ve been writing about award-ceremony attire for many years, but one event that always evokes such interest for me is the Met Gala. Held every year on the first Monday in May, it’s quite simply a myriad of daring, outlandish, and decadent outfits, worn by Hollywood echelons. Fashion elitism in its highest form, it’s famously invite-only by THE world’s most famous fashion journalist, Anna Wintour. The sole inspiration behind The Devil Wears Prada is the chairwoman, and she decides on the guest list.

Held in New York City, at the famed Metropolitan Museum of Art, the selected attendees must adhere to the ‘theme’ of the year. In case you’ve missed it, 2026’s offering is pretty self-explanatory - ‘Fashion is Art’, which, let’s face it, it is.

Why do people love it so much? For me, it’s pure style escapism. In the modern world, dressing down is now considered widely acceptable, no matter what the situation. Tracksuits and leggings aren’t just reserved for the gym, and black tie events are on the decline. So an event like the Met Gala, which celebrates avant-garde dressing in all its glory, is a refreshing change. You won’t see off-the-peg threads; it’s a display of the finest couture. The most iconic designers are given a shining, worldwide platform for one night only, where they theoretically go up against each other (albeit respectfully, of course).

So without further ado, and in no particular order, here are my top five Met Gala looks, which were harder to decipher than I thought.

1. Sienna Miller, Burberry, 2006.

This dress was pure ‘Mod’ glam. Designed by Christopher Bailey for Burberry, everyone’s favourite boho belle had the Midas touch in this swinging ‘60s frock, shunning the stereotypical, somewhat expected bombastic ballgown often seen on those famous steps.

Belted, sleek, streamlined, and oh-so eye-catching, it was expertly styled with thick tights and Mary Jane platforms.

2. Sarah Jessica Parker, Halston Heritage, 2010

I feel like the mighty SJP was truly made for this event with her famously eclectic style and innate way of putting together something memorable yet classic.

In 2010, she wore this iridescent, billowing number by Halston Heritage. The glistening pleated fabric gave her a positively luminous look, and I particularly loved the Carrie Bradshaw-approved corsage and stack of diamond bracelets.

3. Beyonce, Givency, 2015

Queen B hasn’t attended the Met Gala for over a decade, and we are waiting with bated breath to see what she will be wearing this evening. I’m doubtful she could ever top this resplendent look from 2015, though. Sporting a full-on ‘naked dress’, her custom-made, Givenchy Haute Couture gown, designed by Riccardo Tisci, will go down in history.

A plethora of lace and strategically placed Swarovski crystals ensured that all eyes were focused on her. I’m still obsessed with the draped train and daring back, and I loved how she wore her voluminous locks piled high on her head, showcasing the style in all its glittering glory.

4. Blake Lively, Versace, 2018

Blake will always be Serena van der Woodsen to so many, but this awe-inspiring, head-turning look by Versace in 2018 leaves Constance Billard firmly behind. I adore the rustic, cranberry tone of this regal yet racy gown.

It reminds me of a Renaissance painting with the splashes of decadent gold and baroque detail. The sunbeam-style crown was the perfect crowning glory.

5. Princess Diana, Dior, 1996

I know this choice isn’t the most outlandish by today’s standards, but the late Princess Diana’s sapphire blue Dior slip dress, trimmed with intricate black lace from 1996, will always be firmly etched in my mind. Designed by John Galliano, it was a daring option for the royal due to its fluid shape and negligee connotation.

It glided elegantly as she walked, and the effortless way she carried that Lady Dior bag, named in her honour, was nothing short of legendary.

I actually logged in and created a Substack account over two years ago, but never got around to producing anything of substance. What a slacker. I’m afraid to say I don’t really have much of an excuse - apart from the mighty life juggle. You know the drill - mum life, work, and everything in between, from self-care to watching old episodes of Gilmore Girls whilst snacking on M&S cookies (it’s all about the chocolate shortbread - really don’t understand the outpouring love for the speckled egg? Don’t @ me.)

So why now? Well, I just love to write, always have, always will. It’s what I do for a living, and I’ve always enjoyed everything that involves the written word. Also, I’ve fast become an avid Substack consumer. I love my good friend Mel’s offering (Things I’d Tell Francesca - give it a read immediately) and the wonderful Laura Capon’s Can We Discuss. It feels amazing to have a space to write about exactly what I desire. I’m planning on penning my thoughts on popular culture conversations, fashion finds I’m coveting, and of course, a sprinkle of beauty chatter.

Substack brings me back to the wonderful world of blogging. Remember that era? Millennials will be vigorously nodding. Everyone and their dog had a blog. Mine was called Secret Diary of a Fashion Journalist (obvious, moi?), and I started it as a young writer during my first job at Bella Magazine. I spent my days sorting out the fashion cupboard, dutifully sending returns back to fashion brands, and penning my musings virtually on my little patch on the internet, three times a week. It was so enjoyable, and I realised the other day that I wholeheartedly miss it.

As I got older, life got in the way. As did the arrival of Instagram. So I’m hoping to revert to the golden era of 2012, before tech took over.

If you’re still here, thank you, and see you on the other side!

Laura x