As for the games, at 3 and 7, my kids are simply just not interested in cards and would much rather torture Phoenix’s Ariel Barbie by continually removing her legs. Elsewhere, eating at the beach is a disaster. After putting on their suncream, which basically looks like child abuse to anyone watching, as limbs have to be forcibly held down, the idea of me having to then wipe their sand-encrusted hands so they can actually put food in their mouths suddenly feels a lot less appealing. But TBH, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What I saw

On Thursday, I went to see Substack’s finest Derek Blasberg in conversation with Pulitzer-winning author Andrew Sean Greer. Two gay elders waxing lyrical about fabulously eccentric women, an illegal ash burial, pugs in couture diapers and a corpse in a car. The whole thing made me feel much better about ageing. Being psychotic as a 35-year-old is doing me absolutely no favours at all; however, a batshit octogenarian with a lust for life? Now that is one for the books.

What I watched

What the Hamptons lacks in terms of cell phone service, it makes up for in people-watching. Everyone here has invented something random but niche. It’s like Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion; you know, where they pretend to have invented the Post-it. Only instead of the Post-it, these guys have invented world-renowned games like Fortnite and Make Work Efficient Again task management apps like Motion. And then they ask me what I do for a living? “I used to write news stories about Hailey Bieber’s bangs. And now i just wear a whole lot of naked dresses.” Next time I’ll just say I invented the tampon.

What I bought

This black Galliano bias cut dress bc im in mourning for the Met being cancelled.

What I read

Belle Burden’s Strangers. Which made me realise I need to be much nicer to my husband. After my recent behaviour i would consider leaving me too.

What I did

Got into a bit of a back and forth over the Order of Service for Bev’s funeral, whereby I had to delicately suggest that we should perhaps not have pink writing; that the font should in fact be all the same size; and that, generally speaking, it shouldn’t look like it’s been made by a junior staff member at Moonpig.

Elsewhere, we celebrated Reuben’s birthday with a slice of pink principessa cake from San Ambroes, which * weirdly * he wasn’t into.

What I had done

I think this is the longest I’ve gone without being punctured, prodded or preened. Which is why I’m booking in my blow dry, Botox, and lobotomy as we speak. And not necessarily in that order.

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Best meal

A runny peach pie and with a gut shot chaser from the Sagaponack General Store. Worst meal: A disastrous picnic at the beach, in which I was inadvertently force-fed sand. Something that was not made better by a comment from someone in the group. “I’m sure you’ve had worse things in your mouth.” Well, obviously, but that was by choice!

Quote of the week

“It tastes like custard socks” Phoenix

Random thoughts of the week

Who did invent the tampon?

Will I live to be an elderly eccentric?

Are beach picnics ever fun?

By the time we arrived at our rental, it was about 10pm and both kids were wide, and i mean wide, awake. And then we found out there was no internet! If I’d wanted a shitstorm of epic failures, I would have rented a remote farmhouse in Sicily.

Cut to 10am the next day and I’m facetiming a funeral director in a Starbucks car park, contemplating the aesthetic merits of wicker over banana leaf caskets, while my signal cuts in and out. After which I had to mainline a friend’s hotspot in order to sign a contract which referred to me as Bev’s husband. With all the billiegoats in this area, I would have thought they’d been able to sort out the internet by now.

Back to the arrangements. I can’t work out if Bev would appreciate a dove release, or whether she’d find it gauche? For my funeral I want an Axel Vervoordt reclaimed wooden coffin, lined in Scalamandre leopard. It’s sad to think that my wake is the one party i won’t mind not being invited to. Or maybe my fomo will be so bad I’ll shock myself back into life, do a Keith Richards and snort my own ashes. Although, hopefully I’ll be beyond partying by that point.

What I saw

On the weekend we went to a monster truck show which sounds way more exciting than it is. I’d had fantasises of giant scrapheap beasts going head to head in a vaguely homoerotic battle. A gargantuan version of robot wars, powered by sweaty, leather-clad men. A junkyard Elysian where furry beards and beer bellies abound. I wanted to feel the might of America get crushed like a bug. Instead, it was just a bunch of quad bikes doing a lap of a large tennis court, and felt the emotional fizzle of a semi erection.

What I watched

On Sunday we watched Centaurworld on a projector, which is about a lowly elktaur maintenance worker, operating the bridge between the human world and the centaur world. One day he falls in love with a human princess, but realises he will never be worthy of her affections until he becomes a human himself, because centaurs are an inferior race. So he saws his antlers off and eventually uses magic to sever his elk and human side, a move that echoes my early courtship of Tom. Unfortunately, it backfires. Although his elk and human side separate, he becomes the elk, while his human side evolves into a powerful general who turns against him, marries the princess, and imprisons the elk for a decade. After eventually being set free by the princess, he uses magic again, only for it to corrupt his heart, causing him to mutate into the Nowhere King, an evil being who has his own dark and enchanting lullaby, which i kept putting on repeat and crying to. Yes, this is a kids show, and, absolutely, wine was involved.

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What I bought

Nothing that hasn’t been food-related.

What I read

The first few pages of Yesteryear, although I can’t imagine being able to get any more through it because I’m surgically attached to my children. Fave line so far: “That’s the thing about being a mother and a wife and an influencer, all at the same time: it’s basically like breastfeeding three babies simultaneously. Like seducing three lovers at once.”

For me, it’s like being infected with three parasites simultaneously. Like having the life force sucked out of you by leeches.

What I did

On Thursday we went to trivia night at Doubles which turned out to be less friendly and more foe than expected. But to be honest, I’m proud that I don’t know when the first frozen fast food was founded in America. Or the amount of booze it takes to get a BUI (that’s boating under the influence). Or answers to any of the depressing supermarket-related questions.

Answers I did know were the cheese in a Reuben sandwich (Swiss), the closing line to the seminal kids banger Row Row Row Your Boat (life is but a dream) and the name of the TV show in which they make references to Chum Bucket (SpongeBob) not to be confused with cum buckets, which is an entirely different thing.

We also saw the artist Lucien Smith make one of his rain paintings in the rain. Saw the radar tower in Montauk, which inspired Stranger Things. And celebrated Phoenix Fox’s birthday.

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What I had done

On Thursday I went to open-air Pilates in an East Hamptons members club. Dressed in a pair of Tom’s boxer shorts, a Snoopy t-shirt and what I like to call my frizzy holiday bun, my saggy, dimpled, thrombosisy limbs spread eagled on the reformer like Bavarian white sausages, the whole experience made me realise that British people don’t know how to look after their bodies.

Next to me in the line-up was a trio of tanned, toned bodies, owned by women who knew the difference between left and right and were all well versed in Pilates jargon. With their flat stomachs, immaculate ponytails, and non-migrated filler, they looked like the kind of women who could certainly breastfeed three babies simultaneously. Seduce three lovers at once. Overall a humbling experience.

Best meal

Tbh every meal here has been a feast. Lobster rolls, skirt steak sandwiches, pop-up bagels with sweet Greek yoghurt schmear, and cookies laden with toffee, all washed down wth bucket loads of wine. I’ve become a total fat fuck. I think it’s a reaction to all the people that I know who are on Ozempic. Even the men! To make it worse, I’m covered in mosquito bites, but weirdly small ones, from skinny mosquitoes. Yup, even the mozzies are on the pen.

Quote of the week

“A sunny place for shady people” Freddie

Random thoughts of the week

Will i get attacked by ticks?

How can i stop being bloated without giving up anything i love?

As you might imagine, the last few days have been up and down. Up: basking in the wonderful memories of our beloved Bev, my nanny when I was a kid and, yes, it turns out, my nanny as an adult too. Down: being catatonic in Gails, the newly opened wanky coffee shop in Marlborough and attacking the poor delivery guy, who then sent me one of the nicest messages of condolence I’ve ever received, after I sent him a string of unhinged apologies.

Generally speaking, we’ve been getting through it. Telling my kids that their primary caregiver had gone to Bevan - a place where she’s got Cool Lime Refresher on tap - weirdly wasn’t something I’d ever planned, but it’s a testament to how Bev raised them, with the utmost love and care, that they are still standing. It reminded me of when my mum told my sisters and I that our father had died, I would have been around the same age as Reuben. The only difference being back then we still had Bev.

By the weekend, the mood had shifted as we visited Tom’s family in Shropshire - a much needed distraction. We (they) went camping and staged a big dance party around a smoke machine in lieu of a live fire. I tried to weaponise my sadness by pestering the DJ with a stream of annoying song requests. “I’m grieving!” I shouted over the acid house, before telling his mum and threatening to call his girlfriend. “I’m grooving,” he replied, although later he acquiesced.

Coming back to London, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me again, a feeling that was mitigated once I threw myself back into all things interior design. Do we want the culturally dubious tented opium den in the basement to be more boudoir or bedouin? Hmm, methinks bedouin.

Fast-forward to Thursday and we were off on our family holiday to Bridgehampton which Bev was really looking forward to before a much-needed holiday of her own. Luckily we had room in our case for her sandals, so at least she got to set foot on American soil once more.

After several alarms and reminders not just to bring the pram and potty with us but to collect them both from the carousel, plus four whole suitcases, on the other side, we got there in one piece. Bev, I hope you’d be proud!

What I saw

The moon mog the sun during the solar eclipse, which I wish i hadn’t stared at directly because now im paranoid im going to go blind. Wasn’t that what the colander was for?

NB. Google searches for ‘hurt eyes’ went up by 500% on Thursday.

What I watched

Stories of some of the grizzliest people I know getting absolutely wrecked in Ibiza and felt relieved I wasn’t there. Seeing the sunrise with a bunch of rent-a-celebs and Golborne Road gremlins is not really what I need right now.

What I bought

Now that I no longer have Bev around, it’s time to finally start acting like an adult, something I shall be navigating sartorially by way of archival Prada. Sombre, sober, and even a little bit fugly, so much so that it actually becomes sexy and perverse. I don’t know why, but i even see this 1998 autumn/winter silk dress with plastic fluting somehow getting me into the kitchen.

What I read

A poem that my friend sent me by a man called Heinrich Heine, which sounds like a cross between a nazi war criminal and the punch line to an unfunny knock-knock joke. It goes: Death does not separate; death unites. Life separates.

What I did

Spent a week wallowing in misery and guilt. Punted a boat. Ate some wild blackberries. Visited a castle. Wore Bev’s dressing gown and watch. Made a shrine. Joked with Tom about having another baby, unclear if either of us were being serious. Tried a flat-packed croissant which was banging, and appreciated the importance of family.

What I had done

On Wednesday night, I had the life sucked out of me by a fucking British mosquito, which I didn't even know was a thing. I thought they were all living it up in the Schengen area, gorging themselves on a bunch of pilled-up Euros? Isn’t this what Brexit was for? I can only hope that, as it deep-throated my haemoglobin, it got alcohol poisoning, shrivelled up and died.

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Best meal

Whenever someone dies, people love to give each other food. Something to comfort the soul and inflame the gut. Most of which this week has been brownies. Welcome to my big fat wheaty summer. A period of glutinous maximus as I numb myself in sweet, sugary grief.

Quote of the week

“Are we blasting off yet?” Phoenix

Random thoughts of the week

Can you go blind from looking at the sun?

Will the blondie ever compare to the brownie?

Does Bev know how much we loved her?

I will forever be indebted to you for the love and care you have shown my family. We were best friends growing up and it is so special to see that relationship echoed with Phoenix and Reuben. I also love the relationship you have with Tom, even if it was founded on complaining about me. I am heartbroken that I will never be able to hug you or tell you I love you again and will never get over the fact that I never got to say goodbye. If only i had got home sooner.

I don’t know what i think about the concept of spirits and heaven but i definitely believe in the idea of a life force, that essential being which makes up a person, because that lifeforce had left the building when i found you, and i cannot believe that it simply withers away, i truly believe it has gone somewhere. Whether it’s in heaven (or Bevan as the kids are now calling it) or just all around us. I take comfort in both.

I have cherished the last few days going through old photos and being surrounded by your treasures and belongings with your sister and niece. Sorry I made it a mess! I wish I could ask you about your year in Rome and who the hell are those boys you’re with in corfu?!

I know that time heals all wounds, that you are in a better place, that you won’t have to roll your eyes at me ever again (or maybe you will if you are looking down on us) and that you will live on in our precious memories, but that still doesn’t take the pain away from losing you so suddenly and unexpectedly. So all I can say now is I love you and can’t wait to see you again soon. Xxx

And then there’s Miss Phoenix Fox whose toxic feminine traits have already started to show, and she’s literally only 2. Announcing her plans to come for my throne, the other day she attacked me for wearing pink, a colour she deems only suitable for self-aggrandising toddlers, before demanding i give her all my clothes and just stick to black instead, like some kind of written-off, has-been dowager. The Mrs Bennet to her Lizzie B. She also told me that she liked my eyes. Ffs, do you want those too?

The joys of summer holidays. Only 10890 days to go!

What I saw

On saturday night Tom and I went to the Parade cinema in Marlborough to see the Odyssey, where I spent 3 and a half hours thinking about all the growth hormones the cast had been taking. And I don’t mean the giants. I’m talking about Matt Damon. Body tea, pecks GHRP. In fact, everyone in the film was absolutely ripped, even the women. In today’s world, gods are just people with access to peptides.

After it was over, we spilled out onto the high street where we thought about invoking Zeus’s Law of hospitality at one of the local pubs, both of which seemed to be blaring out the best of Britpop, those epic poems of the people. At first it seemed kinda romantic. Here were people having the time of their lives on a saturday night, rat-arsed and inhibition-free. But then I thought about how many potato-bodied farmers were in there, bent over the toilet seat inhaling some local packet, a far cry away from the chiselled gods of Paramount Olympus, and swiftly decided against it. I’d much rather snort some creatine.

What I watched

On Monday night we tried to watch Caligula, but i actually just found it a bit much. You know you’re in trouble when the campy iterations of incest and a man getting tossed off before being sliced open are the least shocking vignettes. And that was the toned-down version!

What I bought

Some girlie knickers for Phoenix who has finally come out of diapers. It reminded me of the first time i bought myself big girl thongs, the baby whore 7 pack of lacey hanky pankies that come in all the colours of the rainbow, a rite of passage for any nymphet as she navigates the choppy waters of adolescence.

You’ll be happy to know i bought my daughter briefs.

What I read

An article about Nicola Peltz in Air Mail, in which a source described her as someone who could fall out with her own shadow, which i think is the most brilliant thing you can say about a person.

What I did

On Thursday morning I went to a dodgy backstreet doctor to get an ECG, located in a dingy hotel somewhere in Kensington, which in hindsight is pretty suss. I’d been paranoid about the heart palpitations I’d experienced last week, which was probably just low-key (high-key) anxiety, and wanted to get everything checked.

First, he took my blood pressure. It read as zero - which in clinical terms, would mean that i was dead. Which did nothing to quell my rising anxiety.

Next, he asked me what I’d been doing which could have precipitated these palpitations, to which i gave a vague abridged answer. Before gesturing to get on the bed, at which point I immediately regretted choosing a white cotton babydoll dress for my #ootd, which made me look like i was an slutty inpatient at an all-women’s psychiatric ward; a pretty accurate representation of where I’m at right now. I stared at the wall while he silently covered my breasts in stickers, and thought about that scene in Love Actually where the sex scene body doubles are awkwardly talking about traffic in between takes.

5 minutes later I was good to go with a clean(ish) bill of health.

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What I had done

I got my gluteal amnesia corrected, which I didn’t even realise was a thing. According to my trainer, there is a neurological disconnect between my butt and my brain which we discovered when he asked me to clench my ass cheeks, one at a time, while listening to Bella Freud’s workout playlist. Don’t be so ridiculous, I told him; that’s impossible. But apparently it is not. In fact, most people can squeeze each butt cheek independently of the other. So we spent the entire hour focusing on that, which felt a bit like rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time, which is something I weirdly excel in, despite it having absolutely zero benefit on my life.

Best meal

Probably the beef bone broth i made for a late-night snack on Monday, which was really rogue but just what i was craving. Yes it did cross my mind that i might be pregnant but, no, thankfully, i am not. Special mention to the crisps I had on set on Wednesday, which were ham and mustard, and longhorn beef flavoured. I’m obviously entering a very meaty time of my life; maybe it has something to do with my gluteal amnesia?

Quote of the week

“Don’t say you’ll marry anyone random on the street” Reuben

Random thoughts of the week

When should I start wrapping up this Substack?

Should i change the format so it feels less stale?

Is anyone even out there?

In town for a job and a wedding - a Tim Burton bride in Madonna’s old castle - I didn’t leave my hotel room unless it was absolutely necessary, which meant i was permanently on edge whenever i left the compound but suspicious whenever i remained in it. Were those housekeeping calls really just welfare checks? Did the man in the joke shop think i was stealing? Will i ever feel normal again?

By day 5, I’d taken so much medical-grade melatonin that i’d convinced myself i was having a heart attack, so decided to stay in bed where I binge-watched episodes of true crime and downed pints of coconut water as I heard potassium was good for your cardiovascular system. Can’t say the same thing for true crime though. All the while praying to a god I hadn’t spoken to in years to pls not let me die at the Chateau. I wasn’t even staying in one of the bungalows. Surely I go with more dignity than this?

Fast-forward to Wednesday, and I was finally on my merry way, with a 10-hour flight to regret all my decisions ahead of me. Goodbye LA, it’s been real.

What I saw

A ratchet older woman in pink hot pants, pigtails, and a china doll mask. A man with a purple moustache. A pack of teenagers who looked like werewolves and a fuller-figured goth shopping for Barbies.

What i did not see: the sink hole. David Blaine. The inside of a swimming pool.

What I watched

On my flight back, I watched The Drama, which i actually thoroughly enjoyed. It made me think of the worst things I’ve ever done, which are all weirdly related to food and beverages. Like pouring beer in someone’s shampoo and omitting to a vegetarian that the soup they were consuming actually contained meat. And some other things I can’t mention here for legal reasons.

What I bought

A black Venom Spider-Man costume for Reuben and a Glinda dress for Phoenix as an apology for always abandoning them. And I’m considering buying this Galliano dress for me, bc dissociation is a form of abandonment, and so i guess i owe myself an apology.

What I read

A daily mail article about a Christmas shoot I turned down involving an incredibly famous bear and felt at peace with my decision.

Plus a very astute quote from an NY mag about mothering:

“Just because we’re related and I’m your mother doesn’t mean you get access to my whole day.”

What I did

There’s nothing like getting your tits out in the streets of London for an independent magazine to make you question all your life choices. Showing tail in the back alleys of Bloomsbury, the smell of piss wafting up in the dry, arid heat, while geriatric tour buses, builders and, yes, whole families looked on, I looked back on the precise assortment of steps it had taken to get me here. To the left, there were students graduating and to the right a homeless person lying strewn across the pavement; a jarring image of past and future, hope and disillusion, and there I was standing, stripped bare, in the middle. Which seems about right.

What I had done

On Thursday I visited an actual plastic surgeon who walked me through every single objective imperfection on my face. I’d gone in for a Botox consultation and come out a whole host of new insecurities; like, mfor instance, having an overly cavernous eye socket with skin laxity that has formed an A shape underneath my eyebrow - something I was hitherto unaware of and will now never be able to unsee. But I also came away feeling vindicated. The right side of my face is smaller than the left, and so is every feature on it. In fact, the entire right side of my body is smaller, even down to my foot, which I didn’t need a plastic surgeon to tell me, but now I’m wondering if she can help me with that too.

Best meal

On Tuesday I went to Giorgio Baldi, which I first thought was an invitation to watch live theatre, but was relieved to find out it was just an invitation to dinner, dinner at one of LA’s finest Italian establishments where we ate pasta 3 ways, all swimming in some kind of buttery liquid gold sauce. I also liked the dehydrated mushrooms which they served with blocks of truffle cheese which in hindsight was a very, very random but delicisioso dish.

Special mention: the spag bol at the Chateau, but you knew that already, and the Bloody Mary flavoured crisps they hand out on Virgin Airlines.

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Quote of the week

“HR? You’re looking at him” Mickey

Random thoughts of the week

How much is too much to spend on a dress?

Can you OD on melatonin?

Does anyone read independent magazines?

P.s sorry im late, i didn’t want to come

What I saw

On Monday, Tom and I went to see our friend Archie in the play Oresteia, which, despite being the longest play I’ve ever seen at 3 &1/2 hours, was also one of the most gripping. Loosely based on the idea of everyone hates their mother (and apparently their wife), it was like seeing a hammed-up version of my home life play out right in front of me, only with a little less murder, vitriol and gore. All in all, a great reminder to be nice to all the men in my family and maybe to drink less white wine.

What I watched

On Tuesday I went to watch Charli xcx play a gig at Scala, a club I have not been back to since the days of indie sleaze. Back when we used to go out on a school night, drink shitloads of Coronas, and lie about studying English at Oxford. I was also in love with this girl two years above me who used to teach me how to play pool, a sport i continue to have zero aptitude for.

The fact that 20 years later, i still lack the ability to know when to go home is something I find deeply troubling.

What I bought

A dining table on which to break bread and be merry. After measuring this Georgian mahogany table at least 10 times to make sure it fits in the space - a combination of OCD and dyspraxia precluding me from instant purchase - I finally pressed play. Now dreading having to measure the chairs out.

What I read

A headline about hundreds of venomous snakes having been let loose after a typhoon flooded a snake farm which makes me think those unhinged shark movies aren’t actually that far-fetched.

I also read a random comment on Threads about how life would be very different if we grew one big fingernail on our head instead of having hair. Which was lol.

What I did

On Wednesday I pretended I gave a fuck about football and wasted 2 hours of my life watching England lose to Argentina. Also thought about accosting a vaguely famous dad i recognised from the school gates but then thankfully decided against it.

What I had done

Nothing to benefit my health and wellbeing, which is why im am currently in this mess.

Best meal

I’ve had an abnormal amount of avocados this week; mashed, smashed and spiced.

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Quote of the week

“Come be a mountain woman” Dree

Random thoughts of the week

Maybe its time to go and live in a German medispa

What I saw

• A VIC complain about a VIP’s breasts being out at one couture show and someone else freak out about their seat.

• A woman throw her phone at a man in the street.

• And the ghost of Jimmy Goldstein haunt the halls of Hotel Costes.

What I watched

On Tuesday, I managed to watch an entire episode of Euphoria at 2am while eating pizza in bed and without Tom stirring once. But thank god bc he hates when i eat in bed.

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What I bought

A packet of skinny cigarettes to make myself skinny and chic, but they ended up doing the opposite, especially when scissored by my engorged fingers.

I also nearly bought some low-heeled red ballet pumps bc I was mildly hungover, feeling codependent with my friend Dree and wanted to basically morph our identities. But I'm just not sure I'm a red shoe girlie.

What I read

Plum Syke’s latest piece on Substack in which she referred to my husband as ‘Tom “cheekbones” Guinness’, but then later shaved off my follower count by 3000. At least she described my people as cool.

What I did

A shoot where I had to basically pretend i was having a threesome, which is definitely not the shoot I signed up for.

I also went to Derek Blasberg’s Fast & Louche book launch party, where LSD was handing out cigarettes and hamburgers like they were going out of fashion. I wish I had been friends with DB in the noughties.

What I had done

Was humbled after finding out my friend was being put up in a fancy hotel by a brand when all i got given was an Uber code to the event.

Best meal

I actually don’t think I had a single meal this week. Instead, it was just a constant stream of caviar canapés, truffled devilled eggs (which is actually very difficult to say out loud), shit loads of bread, and copious amounts of fries with aioli. Which is why by the end of the week, none of my show or shoot looks fit me. Cue: another moment of humbling

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Quote of the week

“This is a humiliation ritual” Chlita

Random thoughts of the week

Does fashion week always make me feel like shit or am i just fugly and hormonal?

What I saw

On Wednesday I went to an exhibition celebrating the breadth and beauty of queer culture where I writhed around a giant latex bed and imagined I was in an episode of British Horror Story: Brighton Pier.

I also saw a picture of my book How To Be A Goth displayed in some German museum next to a slime green tank top emblazoned with the word brat and rather inexplicably a hi res construction workers vest. The grouping of which I’m marginally unclear of. Maybe something to do with building a post goth, post brat future? Thank you to the admirer who sent me this!

What I watched

A trailer for a movie called Tusk about a man who gets kidnapped, has all his limbs cut off, gets put inside a human walrus skin suit and has to pretend he is a walrus. And now I’ll never sleep again.

What I bought

A pair of vintage Chanel kitten heels because I like the idea of cosplaying as a very chic neurotypical French woman who remembers where she left her keys, phone and wallet, can consume copious amounts of bread and wine without getting an inflamed gut, shits regularly, and is enthusiastic about going to the gym. Basically buying shoes to make all my problems go away.

What I read

A comment from a troll berating me for my negative canthal tilt, which is clavicular speak for downwards slanting eyes. Tbh they are my most distinctive feature. Tom always says that when i * eventually *get my facelift i’ll have to tell the surgeon to pull down instead of up, otherwise the kids will no longer recognise me, which does sound pretty tempting to be fair.

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What I did

Partied with a former child star for the lore

Thought about going to Madonna’s party

Oversaw a mouse’s burial in the country

What I had done

Lost my voice after saying too many nasty things. Might have to bring a whiteboard with me to Couture.

Best meal

On Thursday we were back at The Hart for Lauren Sherman’s cosy pub dinner where i ended up stealing some of Plum Syke’s mince bun, having eschewed my own gluten and dairy free alternative.

Second place goes to the parmesan custard I had at St Clements, which came with caviar and crisps. Actually, strike that, I think this was first place. A salty, creamy, delight. The physical manifestation of umami.

Quote of the week

“Don’t burn the house down and complain to the fire-brigade” Jack

Random thoughts of the week

Must stop smoking, drinking, and eating gluten.

p.s Derek, these dividers are for you.

What I saw

On Monday night I saw the same driver who had driven me home from the fashion awards two years ago, during which we’d spent all night workshopping his underground music career and talking about sampling Sade. The minutiae of which i was amazed to have remembered, given the fact I was absolutely smashed on that night in question. However, one look at the soft brown eyes in the rear-view mirror and suddenly it all came flooding back.

What I watched

On the weekend I watched Maternal Instinct about a woman who cuts out her friend’s baby and pretends it’s her own, which was basically confirmation that women are fucking crazy and should probably all be medicated.

What I bought

Despite being given some Freebie Philo sunnies on our trip, i couldn’t resist swinging by the Sunglasses Hut at T5 where I bought some of my own Gucci sunnies, which is basically like bringing coal to Newcastle. Or dermal filler to Monaco. Which TBH I wouldn’t say no to either.

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What I read

A meme about press days during Fashion Week. “

“Hey, we are in Paris. Wanna Pass by our showroom?”

“No.”

Fair

What I did

On Thursday night i went to the most extraordinary launch event which I’m actually still processing. It was to celebrate the new RH gallery in London, hosted by at least 20 different people, including Guy Ritchie, Theo James, and the guy who flopped as Superman. Henry Cavil? There was also a Marchioness, Margot Robbie, and, randomly, my friend’s mum, all of whom were in it for the enormous amount of credit which could probably only get you half a modular boucle sofa or whatever the Ghastly Good Taste brigade are into these days. After moseying around the celeb pen for a bit, we slithered up the stairs, which reminded me of being inside the Great Pyramid of Giza; hot, claustrophobic and potentially riddled with disease.

From an array of Essex eyebrows and liberally applied foundation to a smorgasbord of over-botoxed men, it was a real cross-section of people. Never did I think I’d see Janet Jackson and Lady Victoria Hervey in the same place, but i guess their love of trendy hotel furniture united them.

What I had done

The thought of having to get the dogs out in front of anyone other than my immediate family makes me want to be physically sick. And yet that’s exactly what i was doing on Wednesday, while soaking up some Riviera sun. Sipping on an Aperol spritz at the La Rose des Vents, Monte Carlo’s crown jewel, which had been suitably Gucci-fied for the occasion, my toes were spread eagled by some patent leather g string sandals. Luckily I had disguised them with a makeshift pedicure the night before. Although in hindsight it was so ratchet i needed have even bothered.

Best meal

Honestly, a toss up between my dinner on Wednesday night at The Hart - a four-tiered bovine experience featuring a particularly naughty mince bun, which is literally mince meat in a brioche bun, accompanied by hash browns and garlic aioli - and the Dover sole we had on Monday night at Claridges for Gucci’s Wimbledon dinner.

Normally I shudder at a skinny girl diet fashion menu - an anorexic leaf situation followed by some flaccid white fish - but this particular meaty piece of poisson, with a side of creamy mashed potato, really hit the spot.

Special mention goes to the caviar on avocado starter we had at the RH shindig - a combination I would have never thought of but was honestly out of this world. Talk about skinny girl diet.

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Quote of the week

“I love ugly things” Adwoa

Random thoughts of the week

I think my eyelids are burning

Modern chandeliers are disgusting

It’s too f hot to do anything

The whole thing got me thinking: Is everybody on the spectrum? Or am I just some kind of magnet that attracts frantic, chaotic energy to match my own? Even my masseuse had adhd. She was also, she told me, a witch and said that there were strong connections between neurodivergence and witchcraft, which i can totally believe. I guess it is a kind of superpower? Being able to oscillate seamlessly between hyperfocus and distraction (particularly when putting small children to bed, getting them up, and anything in between), and never remembering where you left your phone, keys or wallet, but then also being able to hold 5 million concurrent thoughts up at the same time. Maybe I am a witch? My masseuse certainly seemed to think so. She also told me that I have a deep affinity with Egypt, which she articulated by doing the walk like an Egyptian dance - before calling me Clarissa, cleansing my aura, and acknowledging the West Indian spirits of the Notting Hill area, after which she vanished into the night - in what was certainly one of weirder experiences I’ve had in my bedroom in a long time. Which pretty much sums up life on the spectrum.

What I saw

Speaking of neurodivergence i came across a lol comment the other day from someone who was told they weren’t on the spectrum because they had great eye contact over zoom. They were staring at themselves the whole time…

What I watched

A cultural melting pot of people gather in the gardens of the V&A museum at their annual summer party. Everyone there either looked like Grayson Perry in some kind of adult baby asymmetrical tulle situation or some of the sleepier members of the Tory frontbench - the latter of whom looked rather bemused by singer Jessie Ware, who, performing in the middle of a lake, was flanked by two pussy-bow wearing dancers. Pulling shapes in unison, they reminded me of the Siamese Cats in Lady and the Tramp, but like gay cruise edition.

After a quick round of shoot shag or marry- everyone was shot- i fled the scene and went to meet some friends at the pub to watch the England game, where I pretended to know what was going on, although I think the ball gown might have given it away that I’m no football casual. In fact, there is nothing casual about me.

What I bought

On Tuesday I forgot I was bidding real ass money at the Kerry Taylor Auction and nearly spent three terms of school fees on a Galliano dress. Emboldened by my anonymity - ever the keyboard warrior - something tends to come over me during an online auction where I feel like i have to absolutely annihilate the other person bidding. The perks and pitfalls of gamified shopping. Which is exactly what happened during Galliano gate, when I got locked into a duel with a phone bidder until finally snapping out of my trance to acquiesce the win. But not before hoiking up the price bc i am a salty, spiteful bitch. Lot 170, i shall never forget you.

What I read

An article in The Cut about a mom who heads up a household full of AI staff and it does look pretty sweet i must say. As someone who routinely leaves the diaper bag at home, has forgotten the pram at baggage claim and can barely make a sandwich, I like the idea of having an army of AI labourers who can essentially mother for me. Fuck it, maybe they can mother me.

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What I did

On Thursday I drove past my first ever snog, who, 25(?) years on, now looks like a potato. TBH maybe he did then too? It was very dark on the D floor where I was grinding up on him. Was that Kevin Little Turn Me On playing in the background? I think it might have been. I also remember exactly what I was wearing; a vagina skimming khaki belt skirt which doubled as a skirt, with built-in shorts, from Miss Sixty and a turquoise chiffon top I’d stolen from my sister. I’d also stuffed my quadruple A bra with a nest of tissue, which this boy was now disturbing with his fingers, and I’d gotten some budget biscuity-smelling spray tan, which was now rubbing off onto him. A thought that still sends shivers down my spine.

What I had done

On Thursday I went and had a tarot reading at my friend’s Poppy’s (pictured) book launch. After asking me things like: “who is George?” Not sure. “Who is Margaret?” Unclear. “Who had lung cancer and a brain tumor?” Again, drawing blanks. I was about to lose interest until she asked the following: “And who was the drinker?” To which I obviously replied, “me!” But she lost me again when she said I was going to have twins and move to Surrey, which, if that were true, would contradict what she said about living till 93, as i’d be pulling the plug early, joining the likes of dear George and darling Margaret on the other side.

ps you can buy Poppy’s briliant book here.

Best meal

On Monday, I went to a dinner at some very rich art collector’s house where I knew absolutely no one - not a single soul - but was served delicious plates of River Cafe food which I hoovered up before doing a French exit. Otherwise, ive been living off roughage.

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Quote of the week

“The queen is coming down” Phoenix

Random thoughts of the week

So who are Margaret and George? What do they want from me?

What I saw

On Monday, I went and met the entire Delevingne clan at a bar in South London, which felt very trendy and alternative. There were lots of people on dates drinking organic wine and discussing their neurodivergence. Love on the spectrum, I know it well. After downing a bottle of plonk we went to an underground vaulted cave which had been spray painted with amateur graffiti and looked like the kind of space Vans might rent out for one of their public facing spon con events. There we watched Cara perform some of her newest material and drank more wine - canned / definitely not organic - before remembering it was a Monday and that getting smashed would be completely unnacceptable.

I also went and saw Romain Gavras’s exhibition at 180 Studios; An apocalyptic meditation on war and peace, love and hate, reverie and surveillance. The afterparty was at Heaven, which i dont think i’ve set foot in for about a decade. I spent most of my night in the green room(?) slash VIP area which was really just a drag queen staffroom replete with a treadmill, smoke machine and fridge full of dog food and clean vibe drink. A weird smokey vortex, i could have stayed there all night until a girl with a star patch on her face started arbitrarily handing out napkins, potentially having smoked whatever young lean was smoking in one of Romains videos, at which point i realised it was time to call it a night.

What I watched

On Wednesday, I watched a cast of colourful characters/rent-a-crowd queue up diligently for their turn on the Royal Academy summer party step and repeat and realised that not one of these people gave two hoots about art. Then again, I realised, maybe it doesn’t matter?

What I bought

I thought I wasn’t really in a shopping mood - back on meds, so mentally a little more stable- but then i came across this sugar spun confection - a 2002 ruffled Dior situation - and thought it might be nice to have in the wardrobe for any future wedding, even though i actually hate weddings and slightly wish my friends would stop inviting me.

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What I read

I’ve been thinking a lot about oversharing, probably in light of starting this substack off with the line “This week in therapy” and it got me thinking about the absolutely iconic email my eldest sister Pam used to send out to all her friends back in the mid-noughties. A proto newsletter detailing her life in the mean streets of Manhattan, in it she would give every man she encountered an animal name (Golden Retriever, Prince Hamster, and my personal favourite Mr Tumnus - part animal still counts) and would go into great, whimsical detail about her various trysts. After rereading one particular zinger from May 09, I’m convinced she needs to start a substack of her own. Oversharing clearly runs in the family.

What I did

I did a shoot in North London with a real-life snake. Which isn’t the first time I’ve been caressed by a serpentine creature, although I’ve never met one called Yorkie. I chose the male one to hold instead of the female one, just in case she took against me. I think, on balance, after slithering down my own scaling limbs, it felt quite at home.

What I had done

On Thursday, I went and got ultratherapy on three out of my four chins because every time I see a picture of myself not taken from a ¾ degree angle, preferably self-captured, i look like i’ve got chin cleavage. It hurt so much i lay in the fetal position the whole time and had to use two vibrating fidget toys, one in each hand. Tbh it wasn’t the physicality of the pain which bothered me, rather the mental image of cells melting into fleshy tar between the layers of my dermis, which isn’t even how the procedure works - that was causing me the most anguish.

I wonder if i could expense this?

Best meal

On Wednesday evening, I went to Ikeda, a Japanese restaurant with Tom and our friend Mel, where we feasted on warm bean curd and hot soupy egg, which is so not my usual sushi order (very Tom’s) but i was feeling in a frisky mood. And tbh it was banging.

Quote of the week

Didn’t really hear anything of interest this week. I might actually delete this category. Thoughts?

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Random thoughts of the week

Can you expense tweakments?

Where can you go in London after midnight for a civilised drink?

How many supplements are too many?

What I saw

On Monday, I found myself wading through the streets of North London, which were drowning in the filth and detritus of Arsenal’s fans from the night before. Tampons, crumbled cans of cider, and depressed looking half-eaten kebabs - a Gunners wasteland. A place where hope comes to die. It looked like a warzone, or the remains of some foul virus that had ravaged the streets, with a bit of Notting Hill Carnival thrown into the mix. .

It was the same scene in Paris, apparently, where locals had taken to the streets to burn cars and smash shit up, and their team had actually won! Maybe I might start getting into football.

What I watched

This week I’ve been watching Margot’s Got Money Problems. And I’m really into it. Elle Fanning plays a writer who sets up a psychedelic sea punk only fans account to pay for her newborn child that she had with her lit professor. Her dad is a wrestler and also dresses up for people and puts on a semi pornographic show.

What I bought

I’d been slightly bumming out about buying anything Tom Ford recently after spilling a drink on the man himself while aboard a moving train. Obviously, the train’s fault and not the copious amount of champagne I’d been plied with and the fact that I absolutely cannot walk in heels - particularly when on a moving vehicle; however, after stumbling (deliberate word choice here) upon one of his iconic YSL aw 01 peasant tops i realised I simply couldn’t resist. Hopefully i will be wearing it the next time I see him, and he will be able to forgive this humble peasant girl.

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What I read

On Tuesday, I went in for Reuben’s open morning where I spent half an hour pretending to read his work, copying other parents when they said things like “wow great job!”, because in lieu of writing out his rainbow words, Reuben had instead turned his attention to drawing sea eaters, which are imaginary deep sea creatures with no eyes, huge mouths, and sharp teeth. Which, in fairness, were 10/10 in their rendering. Wow, great job!

What I did

On Wednesday, I went and whored out my youngest at a delightful kids spon con event. Saying hi to all the PR and party photographers who I’m used to seeing under the cloak of darkness and with a glass / bottle of plonk in my hand suddenly felt very jarring as I introduced them to my daughter. Give it a couple of years and she’ll be on a first-name basis with them too.

What I had done

The other week I wrote about getting a facial by Kiera, the Irish pixie, but she’s actually more like a Celtic goddess or queen. A Boudicca-like figure. Strong and powerful but fair and just. She goes into this amazing trance as she pummels and kneads you. I can’t quite describe the feeling. I particularly enjoyed the intraoral massage, which I’ve never had before. The idea of having someone else’s fingers in my mouth that aren’t either Tom’s or my hygienist’s did feel a little weird at first, but then I kinda actually got into it.

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Best meal

There is nothing I love more than walking into an organic food shop and spending all my money. It also really gets my orthorexia going. While nothing compares to what they have in the States, I was pleasantly surprised by the selection of overnight oats they had in the Notting Hill Whole Foods Market, and I think it might have been my favourite meal this week. It was like baby food. Oaty, banana-y, and, dare i say it, a hint of nut.

Quote of the week

“Everyone is a loser” Jazzy

Random thoughts of the week

Still thinking about that pool boy

There’s something about being man less and child less which makes me instantly revert back into being a teenage wreckhead. Which i can’t even blame on the Tuscan wine as the night before i’d embarked on my Florentine sojourn, i’d had a different kind of family dinner with the cast and crew of The Moment. One chicken kofta led to another and we somehow ended up at The Box, doing shots of glow in the dark voddy and watching two ratchet “dancers” dry hump each other to oblivion, while (w)hordes of tabletop girlies gyrated to lounge lizard roof top beats.

After lying to the group about “coming right back” i fled back to the bosom of west london, home to an empty house (my family had gone to the country) where I ordered a deep fried pizza and chain smoked out my bedroom window. I think this is what people might call a mid to young(ish) life crisis.

What I saw

On Monday I was dragged to the leaning tower of pisa to take ironic tourist pics while we waited for our delayed flight and nursed some pretty monstrous hangovers. Dressed in a black hoodie and pilates leggings in the roasting heat, it was my idea of absolute hell.

What I watched

More brain rot than you can shake a stick at on the flight back home, which is becoming something of a theme. One account i stumbled across was of girl called its me juliette who makes the most perverse food porn ive ever seen. Think: grinding a real life salt light onto a real life steak, boiling a pizza in a sauce pan, and putting baked beans in a shoe, walking around the city and then eating them. She also likes to dye her food blue.

I also watched an episode of the handmaids tale and randomly cried. I miss all my new friends.

What I bought

Into the lie that the location I’d chosen for a shoot back home, was selling. Which is to say that it was a rigorous lesson in Pawson-esque minimalism. Narrator: it was not. I should have realised something was up by the east 17 postcode, which up until that point I had thought was just an arbitrary name for a British boy band. Again, narrator: it was not.

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What I read

The room when I entered said location and realised it was really just a rigorous lesson in plywood.

What I did

On Wednesday, I spent an hour building a Lego Darth Maul transformer with my son, which was basically me being verbally abused by a tiny man-child whenever I was caught slacking. But i have to say i kinda love lego.

What I had done

I know it seems like all I do is get massages, and tbh that would be correct. But there’s nothing like being face down, flat out on a bed, staring into the abyss of the face cradle ( i had to look up its technical term) to make you realize 1) just how much you hate yourself. Why did i say that thing last night? Does this person hate me? Should I delete that post? And 2) your practitioner’s rumbling tummy will never not be awkward for the both of you.

While this particular massage was sensational - maybe it’s a Tuscan thing? - I had to go and hide in my room for about 5 hours to wait for one particularly aggressive face cradle mark to fade on my forehead.

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Best meal

The 5am lasagne that I sat on and then devoured. Something about the paillard of it all made it all the more tasty. Plus the fact that I was obviously obliterated.

Quote of the week

“I don’t like women” Phoenix

Random thoughts of the week

Girls trips are dangerous

Massages are dangerous

Lasagne is dangerous

Dressed in a dark trench, an engagement ring and flats, while clutching car keys (not bad for a virgin who can’t drive), 2 shopping bags and a book, it was giving Upper East Side ingenue, who had come from a good family but was marrying into a better one. Isn’t too grand that she needs her own driver.

What i did appreciate was the highly aggressive face tape that flipped my usually downturned, depressed manga girl eyes into upturned fox-eyed slits, causing my already rampant facial dysmorphia to spike, something that was compounded when i saw my face projected onto a giant moving billboard in Times Square. Nobody is ready for that close-up.

That aside, I found the whole experience thrilling, although I think I disassociated mid-runway, which might be something to do with the champagne that one of the nodels smuggled in. Maybe that’s what Demna meant when he said that Gucci feeling?

What I saw

A pic of the bird-like mask Empress Elisabeth of Austria wore every day after the death of her only son, and felt flawed tbh. Very McQueen Dante, before Kanye ruined it. Simon Costin, u dere?

What I watched

Copious amount of AI dribble on the plane home, including a video about wellness bro Bryan Johnson’s girlfriend/assistant’s vaginal microbiome, a 33-year-old woman(?) grinding up egg shells in a blender for what I’m still not quite sure, Katie Price theorising about her kidnapped arms dealer con artist boyfriend who i dont quite believe is actually missing and a woman who makes videos about her boyfriend cheating on her while wearing traditional flamenco dressing. What is the world coming to? I literally said out loud. And yet i couldn’t seem to look away.

What I bought

On my last day in NYC, I went and bought an exotic beast-haired coat from one of my fave vintage dealers, which I wore to the Gucci afterparty. The whole thing felt fitting; something about being a cog in the mighty machine of American consumerism had clearly gone to my head and I arrived at the party, foaming at the mouth like a wild animal replete with rabies - which is almost certainly not what Demna meant when he said that gucci feeling. London werewolf in America?

What I read

A quote by papa Gucci that read: “Quality is remembered long after price is forgotten” which was emblazoned on the bag I was carrying in the show. Preach.

What I did

Started therapy (again). I feel like it might work this time.

What I had done

On Tuesday evening, I booked myself a massage at home to try and mitigate my post-NY jet lag, only to have it derailed by Reuben, who spent the entire hour playing epic battles between Buzz Lightyear and Zurg in my bed - the dulcet tones of which cut through the masseuse’s calming music. Welcome to wellness the world deserves. Or at least the wellness I deserve.

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Best meal

On Sunday, before my flight, I treated myself to a slap-up meal of tuna crudo, truffle fries, and lobster salad. Skinny but with a decadent fatty twist, followed by a warm molten chocolate cake, which i wanted to curl up inside and coddle.

Quote of the week

“Depraved, Douched, Dancing. Have I invented the new Live, Laugh, Love? - Hanna

Random thoughts of the week

Should I start wearing facetape all the time?

What peptides is Tom Brady on?

Do i look like katie price?

Just like the confusion around the locus of my pain, I wasn’t sure about the capacity in which I was here - the peculiar perils of a fit to confirm. Something that was compounded at immigration when the officer asked me what I did, to which I - unbidden - gave her my entire life story. Writer who hates writing, late-in-life influencer, amateur nodel, ageing sh(It) girl.

The vibe in NYC was equally confusing. The streets were crawling with crackheads and commuters. Angry office gremlins mixed in with jubilant graduating students. Perfect paragons of hope and disillusion. It made me think of my own graduation, which I skipped bc I didn’t like the way I looked in my gown. And besides, I was already on the fast track to making all the wrong choices back in London.

But, now, seeing these beaming students embraced by their proud parents in front of me made me feel nostalgic, for what I’m not quite sure. Maybe I just wanted to feel young again so someone could parent me.

Fast forward 5 minutes, and I saw a woman get carried off on a stretcher. Maybe things aren’t so bad after all.

What I saw

On Wednesday, I went to the Duchamp exhibition at MoMA, which was great. The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Even is still one of my favourite titles ever but I think I was most gagged by the Sculpture Mortes and Torture Mortes, which I’d never seen before. The rotting fly-infested foot and face made out of marzipan fruit inspired by 16th-century fructose king Giuseppe Arcimboldo - both meditations on the fragility of the mortal coil, a concept that is always brought into sharper relief by being in NYC. IDK why but I always feel closer to death here. I think it might have something to do with the granite.

What I watched

On the plane out, I watched If I Had Legs Id Kick You, which is a very harrowing portrait of a mother losing her grip on reality. Rose Byrne is brilliant as a burnt-out matriarch whose kid refuses to eat anything without a feeding tube that a sleep-deprived Rose has to fill up with slop every night. It’s as if the umbilical cord was never severed, and you can never escape your identity outside of being Mother. A strong case for contraception if there ever was one. Or, if too late, adoption?

What I bought

On Wednesday, I went and spent all my money at Happier Grocery and was actually a lot happier for it. I bought supplements in every flavour, including one made out of liquid colostrum, I believe the source of which was bovine? Although I was at a dinner the night before where i watched one guest feed another some real-life breastmilk, which was kinda wild.

I also bought 6 Japanese strawberries for 14 dollars, and 5 of them were mouldy, which is a great metaphor for life in NYC. A great big juicy fistula.

What I read

Currently reading Famesick by Lena Dunham and feel weirdly seen, not that I’ve ever had a BDSM relationship w a man w a cleft lip, or a chronic health issue, unless you count shoddy mental health, but her particular brand of unhingedness has struck a chord.

What I did

Attended an influencer event by mistake. I was meant to meet a friend but got out of the lift on the wrong floor and found myself at some kind of weird denim launch, which felt like I’d walked into an alternate universe bc it could have very easily been the kind of event I’d be shipped out to, only I didn’t know the PR, the Getty photographer or any of the other guests. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

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What I had done

On Tuesday, I went and got a facial where they covered my face with papier mache, which then turned hard, and I felt like I was being mummified. Like I was waiting for the tool that they stick up your nose to pull your brain out. But instead, they just added an electro microcurrent and called it a day. Maybe someone should take out my brain, it could do with a good clean.

Best meal

On Tuesday, I went for dinner at Public and had a really confusing but delicious meal. Chicken mousse and mashed potato that had been piped into what looked like a foreskin, which was coincidentally the subject of our conversation, followed by crispy prawn chow mein, which then set me up to think the third dish was some kind of asian fusion mushroom and noodles, but actually turned out, under the harsh glare of an iPhone, to be steak and chips. Sublime.

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Quote of the week

“Better start wearing a diaper”, Ricky

Random thoughts of the week

I hate seeing fake plants in urban spaces

American pharmaceuticals are next level

Most people in NYC don’t drink

Man of the match goes to the guy from Heated Rivarly, whose walk of shame the next day had something of a pantomime quality. I want what he’s having.

What I saw

On Wednesday, I went to see Rosalia play, which was honestly so mind-blowing. Part opera, part ballet, plus a hint of that Y2K kids show Zzzap! it was hard not to fall in love with her. I’d been * slightly * nervous beforehand as they’d ask me to potentially come on stage and be one of her confessions, and the only thing I could think about was that time i was being rather quarrelsome in the bath, when Tom climbed in fully clothed and shoved his finger up my ass and proclaimed he’d found the off button, which would have been quite extreme to admit at the o2 in front of 20, 000 people and then have circulate as a clip online to 20,000 more, but luckily i got clout mogged by Cara Delevingne whose confession was a lot more meaningful and sincere.

I also went to see the Schiaparelli exhibition at the V&A with Substack extraordinaire D. Blaz and learnt about Elsa’s love of lobsters.

What I watched

On Monday evening, I binged-watch Beef on Netflix about two feuding criminal couples. There was one scene in which Carey Mulligan blackmails a medical tourism bookie meets part-time tennis coach into giving her free plastic surgery. Staring at herself in the mirror with marker pen sprawled across her face, she deadpans, “I’m just going to start with the laser. I don’t want to end up looking crazy.” Oh, the lies we tell ourselves.

What I bought

A bomb shelter for the back garden. I had asked for a four-poster bed, but there was something about its corrugated iron roof which had a WW2 quality about it. While it may prove useful given the current geopolitical climate, I’m not sure how much longer it will be staying there. * Clicks returns to sender *

What I read

Matt Starr’s Mouthful, a sick little collection of perverse poems about sex, hunger and bodily obsessions, including one about fellating hot dogs spiked on power drills with his brother. I think he might have had quite a strange childhood. My favourite one is called Family Bonding, which is about the time he and his mum both had depression but only one of them had health insurance and so they split a bottle of SSRIs between them and now are both 50% happier.

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What I did

Cancelled pretty much every fitness session I had this week

Tried to talk to Travis Kelce at a bar. It was not welcome.

Drank wine out of a plastic cup

Felt ugly

Ran away from my kids

What I had done

On Tuesday, I watched helplessly as Reuben had 2 teeth pulled out, which was actually an extremely harrowing experience. After having his gums secretly injected (while the numbing cream did its thing), I watched as the dentist twisted each tooth 360 degrees clockwise before plucking each one out, while Reuben stared cheerfully at the ceiling with no sense of what was happening at all. I was so paralysed with fear that all I could do was pet his leg. I later donated £20 to the tooth fairy kitty out of guilt.

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Best meal

I actually don’t recall eating this week

Quote of the week

“Having a double-barreled surname used to mean your parents came from good families but now it just means your mother is difficult.” Random person on Twitter.

Random thoughts of the week

I wish I went to school with the boys in Yung Lean’s music video

Is youth culture these days just about livestreams?

After swapping pleasantries with the boys who used to relieve themselves in cups and pretend to me it was apple juice (they also glued 50p to their doorstep and watched out the window as i tried to pick it up) and reminiscing / PTSD’ing with my sister’s friends about that time I acquainted myself with some particularly questionable Euro i’d met at a rave in Shoreditch, only for our housekeeper to then walk in on us post-coital and tell Bev we’d had an orgy, I had to go and hide in a dark corner until sunrise.

Note to self: no more parties without Tom.

Note to others: Ozempic face is real.

What I saw

Any sense of credibility with my husband and kids go out the window when i realised I’d slept through my alarm and missed my flight home. Eek. In my defence, the alarm on the new iPhone is basically just a whisper and i was knee-deep in REM.

I also saw - and this is a total non sequitur - a photo of a fully clothed man fraternising with a fully unclothed man in a bathroom stall at The Kensington Roof Top Gardens, which I didn’t ask to see and now, regretfully, can’t unsee. Apparently, it’s been doing the rounds throughout West London, bc even my trainer has seen it.

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What I watched

A man who looked like he’d gone swimming in a tannery and with teeth as bright as bioluminescent plankton have the mother of all meltdowns in the not-so-speedy boarding queue. If I thought Gatwick was bad, Stansted was on a whole other level.

What I bought

Into the idea that drinking water infused with frankincense would absolutely change my life. Narrator: it did not.

What I read

Nothing, however, I was read by my 6-year-old son on Tuesday, when he dropped my ring on the floor. After telling him off for nearly breaking it, he scolded me for my ignorance, replying haughtily that breaking it would make it more beautiful because of wabi sabi, the ancient Japanese philosophy of accepting things that are imperfect. From dropping the ring to dropping the mic…

He also said I have the voice of a man and a half, double chin, which I’m rigorously looking into getting removed. Can you also change your voice?

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What I did

Got farmed out to several spon con events, which made me realise that influencing is not so far away from being a well-dressed escort. Maybe I should start doing it full-time?

What I had done

On Tuesday, I went and had acupuncture and was told that I had running piglet chi, which is when the pig escapes the pen and goes and terrorises the village, which is one of the most accurate representations of me at the wedding that anyone could have ever given. Hopefully, now the pig is back in the pen.

I also went and had the world’s best 2-hour facial in an East London shed, where a stunning Irish pixie basically beat the shit out of me, something I had been doing to myself all week. So it felt weirdly full circle.

Best meal

Touching cloth with a mental breakdown on Monday, i self-soothed with a Snickers ice cream I found in the dark underbelly of our freezer, the origin of which i did not question despite our household sugar ban.

Quote of the week

“Some people just aren’t meant to be skinny” Anon

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Random thoughts of the week

I feel like Lipsalve is the biggest con of our generation

There should be naughty steps for adults

I think i’m too depressed to write my own Substack

Another thing that spun me out last week (late to post i know sorry!) was I got invited to a press day for someone who has the same surname as a girl who used to hate me at school, whom I hadn’t thought of in years, and who once called me a spidery bitch which is hands down the best insult that anyone’s ever levelled at me. She thinks I stole her boyfriend. Technically, he did become my boyfriend, but the situation was evolving and complex. Anyway, after some archaeological-grade digging, i can confirm the shoe influencer is not in fact related to lets call her Madame X. However, 3 days later, i bumped into Madame X’s real life sister while taking my son to the dentist. I’m not sure what the universe is trying to tell me, but I am listening.

Side note. Despite my son growing two shark teeth (big teeth coming in behind two little ones, which have yet to come out and will need to be yanked out) i am pleased to announce that he is apparently a Class 3 profile, which means he will be generous of jaw. My little manosphere messiah in the making. Good news at last!

What I saw

On Wednesday, I went to the Devil Wears Prada premiere in Leicester Square, which has some very intense embargos on it, so as for pithy comments about the fashion (!), the plotline (!), and the proximity to real-life vogue events(!), I’m afraid to say that for now, that’s all.

What I will say is I’ve never seen such a *colourful* guest list. A tyranny of reality TV stars, mumfluencers, and ageing loatharios - the kind you might have seen spilling out of the tropical-themed nightclub Mahiki when the first Devil Wears Prada came out. All that was missing was Lady Victoria Hervey.

What I watched

I’m currently rewatching Girls. 15 years later, it actually still lands. Hannah is still very annoying and self-absorbed, which might well be a case of takes one to know one, but i like the way she reframes being crazy as a combination of being smart and sensitive, which is something i very much relate to.

That said, watching it while getting a drip * might * not have been the best idea. My male nurse piercing my skin to the dulcet ones of “i want to make you cum” and “I want you to make me cum” was really not the one.

What I bought

I’ve recently found myself going down a very strange stylistic path. Think trad wife meets Amish milkmaid. Lots of soft pinks, frills, denim and floral designs. I even considered a dress that had been emblazoned with cartoons. Am I having some kind of sartorial stroke?

Most of it was just window shopping, but i did press play on a floral and lace onesie from Chloe. Quite fraulein, she bakes muffins but also enjoys anal, energy. I don’t know why, but i find buying swimwear really soothing at the moment.

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What I read

About a woman denouncing the toxicity of Botox online. “Thanks, Karen” she wrote. “I survived cherry flavoured cigarettes, k holes, dating drug dealers, doing lines off toilet seats, and 3 day seshes. I think I’ll be fine.” Yup. Although never tried a cherry cigarette.

What I did

Made a semi-degrading casting video in a tank top and mini skirt, the kind of Wheels and Doll Baby fit I used to stuff with tissue paper to make up for my prepubescent mosquito bites and wear to Capital VIP. Those weird ticketed teenage parties, where everyone got fingered on the D floor by the same extremely tall man in braces who stank of Smirnoff Ice, Lynx, freedom and sweat. I believe Kevin Little’s You Turn Me On was playing throughout.

I also took Reuben to the Samurai exhibition at the British Museum, where he knew more about Japanese oni and yakoi (spirits and demons) than the curator. To the point where a Japanese man behind us was very impressed. And maybe potentially a bit freaked out. We then went to the cafeteria, where two Australian biddies quibbled over the price of apples.

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What I had done

On Tuesday i got a massage which i thought would help soothe my tummy but also snatch me. It did neither. However, I did make me think about going to China, where the most popular shows on TV are about business CEOs falling in love with their cleaners, which are said to give hope to the masses, so said Suzie my Chinese masseuse. I think i could write some great TV in China.

Best meal

After an entire day’s meal skip (yesssss) on Tuesday, while my stomach regurgitated half-digested salmon, and was that a hint of arugula I detected? i treated myself to a meal of Bananas, Rice, Apple sauce and (GF) Toast. AKA BRAT, as the internet advises.

Quote of the week

“Nothing worse than people’s readers” Kaitlin

Random thoughts of the week

Why was that man with the Lucozade staring at me so menacingly in Pret?

Wait, am I Hannah Horvath?

From Kylie Jenner’s MTV Cribs flex to Jacob Elordi skulking around on pussy patrol, it looked like people were actually having fun. Certainly more fun than i was having back in England, where I spent all of Saturday building a blow-up punching bag with my son while listening to Limp Bizkit. My own private Indio. Maybe next year I’ll head to the desert.

What I saw

There’s a lot of weird shit happening in the house directly behind ours, which i assume is divided up into flats. I don’t know, I’ve not been round. In the top flat, someone has taped what looks like an empty packet of popcorn to the outside balcony wall, where they’ve also hung a mirror, which is actually kind of weird. Do you need to be looking at yourself on a balcony? It suggests some kind of weird altitude kink.

On the basement level, the man never seems to be wearing any clothes. And on the third floor, a woman has left her stinky Mary Janes on the window ledge for about a year now. Which made me think that if I’d committed a crime and wanted to get rid of incriminating evidence ie shoes, but didn’t want CCTV footage of me hiding them in a dumpster, putting them on the windowsill is actually a pretty good shout.

Having marinated in the elements since last summer, we discovered on Monday that one of the shoes was missing. After various theories about magpies with foot fetishes fell apart, we deduced that the left shoe had actually just fallen onto the windowsill of the flat below, which will no doubt freak the owner out when they realise.

What I watched

My son stay completely in character while acting out a slo-mo kung fu fight. Which meant he even blew his nose in slow motion.

What I bought

After a bottle of tumeric-infused vitamin drops absolutely annihilated my favourite Pucci swimming costume - the perils of carrying your liquids in the luggage hold - I decided I simply must buy 3 bikinis in its place. My favourite of which is a vintage Dior halter-neck two-piece. There’s something about having a logo stamped over one’s vulva which I find weirdly alluring. Like that old Tom Ford advert with the G shaved out of pubes, only not as hirsute. This is what they mean when talk about brand ownership.

What I read

Some of Cookie Mueller’s Ask Dr Mueller advice columns, out loud, to a room full of people, while standing in the middle of a boxing room in Kensal Rise. Which wasn’t what i had on my bingo card. I read about a man with a raging case of the clap, a too big penis, and life of boredom without drugs.

What I did

This week i wrote about how much i used to hate PE, got age shamed by this young girl with a very quiet voice at the boxing ring, was farmed out to a badly lit cocktail evening, had a panic attack, played with clay, and wore some of my friend Marc’s utilitarian outerwear, which got me thinking about changing my entire sartorial identity.

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What I had done

I got zoomed mogged by someone i was interviewing the other day. And then my camera eventually just stopped working which is i hope is the universe’s way of telling me to get out of my head. Or maybe that’s just what happens when someone mogs you; their powers are so great that they literally break your camera.

Best meal

There’s nothing like marking your return to England than with a decadent Sunday roast. Although i did feel like the guy from sex and the city who chews his steak and spits it out. I slightly had to do that with my beef bc i couldnt really chew it but it still hit. Elsewhere, the cauliflower cheese was delectable. Especially when dipped in gravy. I think im just really into white/beige food at the moment. As i navigate this particularly acute bout of anxiety, baby food is proving to be highly soothing.

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Quote of the week

“Fuck my hard fuck me soft, I don’t care I’m on Zoloft” Matt Starr

Random thoughts of the week

Should I start my own advice column?

Is my substack getting worse?

Is it normal to think you’re being secretly recorded?