It's Christmas Eve, and on the off chance that I've been wrong these past twenty odd years and Santa is in fact real(!!), and more to the point I'm on the nice list. And further still, he reads this little old thing, I decided better be safe than sorry and finally compiled a wishlist of sorts.
Sorts being mostly ridiculous; but then isn't that what a wishlist is supposed to be?
The Row is a big ask from the big guy. But here's the thing, how freaking versatile is this midi length number. And frankly, leather just never gets old. Especially when it comes from the brains of the Olsen twins. I mean, am I right?
Acne no less. Aim high, that's my motto. And what wishlist, any wishlist, would be complete without some form of Converse. These kicks are leather, like The Row. Ooh imagine them together. Santa must surely appreciate the sartorial joy of that combination.
Surely Santa appreciates the brilliance of the gold Casio, and hence is happy to dish them out to whoever so desires. Ditto the Sophia Webster booties, any giver of gifts to me would know how high these babies would be on my list of dreams. The London coffee table book is a given, hashtag London Lover.
Frankly, what wishlist would be complete without some sparkly jewels, a la this Moxham number, equal parts grunge and glamour. And deliciously rad. And considering it's summer round these parts, a pair of Retro Super Future tinted spectacles would be oh so handy when the early morning sun hits.
So, just a few ideas Santa. Take one, or all, or even come up with your own wishlist. Contrary to popular opinion, I'm actually easily pleased.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays etc. etc. Hope Santa comes swinging down your chimney, you have plenty of yummy food and drink to demolish and most importantly of all - plenty of love and laughter with the people who mean the most to you.