Happy Easter!

Easter is one of my most treasured times of the year. To a family as close as mine, Easter is a very sacred and special occasion for the family to be together and to celebrate spending time together, to be thankful for everything we have been blessed with. It’s also a great opportunity to indulge in my dad’s vintage wine cellar and over indulge in confectionery.

It couldn’t have come at a better time with work either. My first month at Armani has flown by in a whirlwind of press days, season changeover and September issue send outs. And as the first whispers of Men’s collections have begun to dance through the office, a four-day weekend sounded like the perfect chance for some rest and relaxation before another month of fast paced fashion fun begins. Emily was already home from Madrid with tales of the fun she’s been having and I was aching to join in the fun.

So practically leaping out of the office door at 6pm on the dot on Thursday evening I made a dash to the station and was straight on the train home, joined by the majority of London escaping the city for the long weekend.

I couldn’t have been happier to be met by my whole family at the platform. February must have been the last time we were all together and my dad was eager to introduce me to the latest additions to the family. Since my older sister and I have flown the nest, he has attached himself to parenting baby chicks. While conversation of the latest model of incubator or the vast amounts of land in our garden now dedicated to chickens usually irritates me, I was secretly thrilled to be coming home the evening that ten new arrivals were coming into the world.

Good Friday was dedicated, as ever, to family pastimes and old traditions, done each year with a bottle or two more of champagne. The cream egg brownie became my new favourite recipe, and my sisters and I spent the afternoon animatedly decorating the shells left over to create the perfect cases for our spring cress. As evening fell we prepared for dinner and headed off to meet my aunt and uncle for dinner. A five-course dinner in the country accompanied by bottle upon bottle of wine saw us see in the early hours of Saturday as we reminisced on the celebrations of the last year.

The easter weekend continued with a collection of coffee’s dinners and martinis in some of my most treasured company and was a beautiful reminder of how much my roots mean to me. The weekend was perfectly polished off with a wonderful lamb dinner on Sunday, while we enjoyed the Chinese grand prix.

Monday flew back around and as I type this I’m beginning my descent back into London town. Feeling perfectly rested, but equally expectant for the exciting few weeks ahead, I hope you’re Easter was as blissful as mine.  

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Girls Night

There's nothing I love more than playing dress up.

When I first started going out in my teenage years, the pre night out ritual would begin around 7pm. Early dinner, because a food baby is not going to compliment the outfit I pulled out four days ago. Shower time, because it is impossible to style two day old hair. Then around 8pm the girls would pile round. This was nearly always lead by my girlfriend Lucy, my partner in crime when it came to religious partying.

Cue copious amounts of wine, loud all-girl mega-mixes and the construction and reconstruction of the perfect outfit from four days ago that now simply doesn't make the cut. We'd do each others hair while tipsy shouts of "who has my mascara" or "has anyone seen my bra straps" echoed round the room. After a hundred selfies, we'd slip on our ten inch heels and stumble into the back of a cab, usually driven by Alan, and disappear into the night. The whole routine would usually last a good three or four hours and nine times out of ten was more of the focal part of the night out than the night of partying itself.

With hazy heads the following morning, we would recall the antics of the night previous, drinking tea and packing up the five spare outfits we'd had on standby and hiding from the embarrassing amounts of empty bottles scattered across the room. The girls and I would repeat this ritual every week, so when it came to my departure for Uni, I was nervous for my getting ready ritual to be compromised.

But thankfully, I realised something great when I came to Uni. Girls are the same the world over. Each of the girls I moved in with had their own getting ready ritual, so we combined them to create the power pre-night out. And as Friday finally rolled around again, Pippa and I had got this.

Top- Topshop

Skirt-H&M

Shoes- Similar at Office

 Throwing each others clothes on and off in a bid to create the perfect outfit while mixing spirits with the professional expertise of the finest bartenders (tiny exaggeration) we began our preparations. Yet as per with Pippa and I, we were running late, and as 10pm came around, we tumbled into a cab and headed over to DSTRKT. It's quickly becoming my favourite London hotspot, and we wasted no time hopping inside, welcomed by a glass of champagne.

Our night quickly got hazy and I awoke with a full face of make up, a skirt in two pieces and an unrivalled hangover. It was one of those rare moments that the evening festivities had more than lived up to the getting ready. I'll share a few snaps with you and leave the rest to the imagination.

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Turning Fables

It felt like forever since I had seen Jack, Gemma and Fi. We're usually joined at the hip when possible but since we've all had so much on recently it's been more and more difficult to find a slot to meet up. So a catch up was long overdue when I suggested we meet at one of Central London's newest offering, The Fable. And never ones to turn down the chance to critique a new haunt, or a good catch up over an even better cocktails, we agreed to give it a whirl.

However this began with problems. The bar, on the corner of Farringdon road, is a three floor maze, with an entrance on both the ground and top floor, a fact unbeknown to Gemma and I. So after an accidental game of hide and seek up and down the bar, Gemma and I finally found each other and sat down, each floor more and more packed with suits enjoying a good post work moan.

But that has to be the only complaint I have. And if the worst thing about a bar is its confusing navigation, a girl really can't have any complaints. The whole place is decked out like something from your favourite fantasy storybook, with influences from tales from around the world, and even a themed menu. Which the gang and I wasted no time exploring.

We settled on a 'rub a dub shrub', a sharing cocktail with a watermelon and champagne base, although I could quite easily have gone for the majority of the options on the menu. Each was an original twist on a classic, or just a total original, and each was enriched in a story of fun and fantasy. And when we saw it being served in a mini bathtub (yours to take away for £20) we were looking forward to it even more. The added attention to detail and the fact that we had to carry a bathtub through the bar to our seats, was both impressive and giggle-worthy, and we wasted no time tucking into our teacups of cocktail. 

Any apprehension that the taste wouldn't measure up to the presentation was dispelled in the first mouthful, and we tucked in as the conversation began to flow over the news from the last few weeks.

And not content with sampling only one of the extensive offerings, we were all eager to order again, with Gemma's arriving with a whole plum inside and my gin based cocktail arrived in a sandwich bag. Complete with edible lily pads and a goldfish made out of orange peel. A first for us all.

If it's great cocktails in a great atmosphere you're looking for, then its pretty obvious there are a hundred haunts across London that will tingle your tastebuds. But this gem comes with an even rarer stone. While it may take its cocktails seriously, everything else comes with a little pinch of humour. And that is something you can't find everywhere. 

www.thefablebar.co.uk

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BNY Mellon

I've been looking forward to this all year. It's one of my favourite events in the Spring calendar and considering I hadn't been back to The Crabtree since last years race, I was looking forward to it.

For those unfamiliar, the BNY Mellon is an annual boat race along the Thames between the rowing teams of Oxford and Cambridge, and this year was the 160th year the rival teams were to race. And with Melissa unable to be involved, it was down to Pippa and I to carry the tradition. Which was just fine with us.

So we began the day with one of our favourite bottles of Rose, animatedly throwing clothes across the room at one another. Sadly our pre picked summer dresses were quickly discarded to the back of our wardrobes once more as mother nature forced us to return to outfits slightly more appropriate for the not so mild temperatures.

Shirt- Zara

Jeans- Jack Wills

Shoes- Topshop, similar here

Finally ready, we headed into W6. While the boatrace website highlights a whole host of bars and restaurants along the river to catch a glimpse of the race, The Crabtree is almost perfectly in the middle, plus it does the meanest jug of Pimms. It also has a large garden overlooking the Thames laden with tables and benches to sit a small army. Which is the perfect description for the hoards of people filling the pub that afternoon. Pippa and I quickly found ourselves a spot right by the hog roast and ordered a jug for two. Amy and Sophia joined us soon after and the afternoon quickly turned into the ideal combination on drinking and gossip while we awaited the race. 

I've never really had an Oxbridge preference, but considering I was team Cambridge last year, I decided I would root for them again this year. So as 6pm drew around, laden with flags, we slowly and not so elegantly made our way to the waters edge. Everyone gathered around to eagerly await the first glimpse of the teams and erupted into elation as the first boat came round the corner ten minutes in. 

Sadly Oxford lead from the beginning and rode to an easy victory, but our spirits were certainly not dampened as we tumbled out of the bar. And we're already looking forward to next year… 

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Dear Daddy,

It was my dad's birthday this weekend. Sadly, with a packed work schedule and other commitments tying me to London I couldn't make it home. But we've got to the stage now where it doesn't matter if we can't all be together for birthdays or anniversaries or holidays, we always make time to be altogether at a later date. It's just as special.

Anyone who knows me well knows how incredibly close I am to my daddy. My favourite phrases as a child were "DADIEEEEEEE" or "look at me" and very little has changed in the twenty years that have followed.

Through everything I have done and all the choices that I've made, my dad has always been at my side, encouraging me and believing in me, and I know I would be simply lost without him. Through learning to ride a bike, going to high school, the first time I brought a boy home to the day I moved out, my dad has always been there with a smile as warm and knowing as you could ever picture. We still talk almost every day, whether its about the documentary he's making about his chickens, or the outfit I'm wearing on tomorrow night's date, he is animated and entertaining in every word.

My whole family is, as many people are aware, the closest and most unusual bunch of people you could imagine. And our dad is the glue to that. So because I couldn't celebrate his birthday with him, I thought I would share it with you.

So Happy Birthday Daddy, thank you for showering every day of my life with love. I will always be your little woman

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What's The Point of It?

I am hopeless when it comes to art. I don't appreciate the meaning behind artwork, I'm never moved by an image, and I rarely know how a painting makes me feel.

So thankfully I have Pippa to interpret these things for me. She is so much more creative than I am, with an equally wild imagination. So she's the perfect companion for an afternoon of art appreciation. Plus I'd been dying to go to Martin Creed's What's the point of it? since it opened at the end of January. Rather than being an exhibition solely based on visuals, it is a multi-sensorial celebration of interactivity and invention that intended to play as many games with your mind as it did with your eyes. Pippa and I were in.

I also realise I haven't done an outfit post for a while. So I thought I would include it here. Spending all week wearing fifty shades of indigo and black has reminded me how much I love experimenting with colour. And with the promise of up to nineteen degrees, I picked out the perfect spring look using every shade of pink.

I'm in almost head to toe Topshop, and nearly all some of my favourite pieces from last summer. But fear not, I've managed to find near-identical pieces in this years SS collections:

Blazer: Tailored peach blazer

Top: Crepe tee

Skirt: Pink skort

The shoes are New Look Limited edition, and the bag a Vintage piece I've had for years, but eBay always do some fantastic ones. 

So we headed to The Hayward Gallery on the Southbank. As I'm constantly saying, the Southbank holds such fond memories for the girls and I, and it is always so good to head back to some of our favourite haunts there. 

The exhibition begins with a large-scale instillation of the word "Mothers", a representation of how in youth, your mother always appears big (and sometimes a little bit scary) that spins around the whole room at varying speeds. Pippa and I were quick to duck as it span our way and scurried through the exhibition. 

While you're not supposed to take photographs, I managed to sneak a couple of my favourite pieces, and Broccoli prints had to be one of them. A thousand half heads of broccoli graced the wall of room three of the Hayward gallery and each one was made from a different head of broccoli, and each one in a different colour. It was a celebration of Creed's favourite vegetable (strange choice if you ask me), as well as a celebration of colour, youth and imagination. And that I couldn't disagree with. 

But the best part of this exhibition is the balloon room. I'm not much of a gallery person usually, as I said earlier I just cannot appreciate the beauty and emotion in an image the way I know the artist would wish. But what I can do is recognise the fun in a 7 foot tall room half filled with seven thousand balloons. 

Pippa and I wasted no time in experiencing the room described as 'both playful and claustrophobic', diving straight into a game of hide and seek. 

 Finally finding each other again and deciding we had ran round the room enough times, we decided to take our static hair and claustrophobic minds through the rest of the exhibition, stumbling upon a giant instillation of a moving penis on the roof terrace. And rather than appreciate the exploration of rhythm and repetition, like the mature adults we are, we decided to giggle like children and take photos petting it. You can't grow up too fast.

You can buy tickets for £9 from the box office, or just turn up on the day for the exact same price. Or add a pre-exhibiton glass of champers for £3.50. It's well worth a visit, and has just been extended until the 5th May due to popular demand! So get your tickets here http://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/

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Picnic in the Park.

You can imagine how happy I was to wake up to this morning. 

Don't get me wrong, I love winter. Cosy nights in front of a log fire with old re runs and the Christmas fridge only an arms-length away are some of my fondest memories. But my true love is summer. Somehow everything is better when the tights are off and the sun is out. 

And what better way to spend the afternoon than with a picnic in the park. I managed to convince my rather reluctant and somewhat hungover best friends to join me, and each laden with afternoon treats, Jack, Gemma and I headed to Hyde Park.

One of the biggest arguments about living in the city (this centrally comes from my mum) is that there's no fresh air, grass or water. But in fact London is one of the greenest cities in the world and the nearest park is only a stones throw away if I begin to crave some feelings of home.

So we made a camp among the other sun revellers, pulled out a bottle of Lanson I'd been waiting to open since my birthday, and drank and chatted our way through the afternoon, soaking up the sun and watching the world go by.

It was also the perfect opportunity to take my dream dress out for a spin (previously blogged about here Spring Sunshine and a little celebration)

It's set to be a beautiful week, and with an incredibly busy week of work ahead, sadly I don't think I'll be seeing even a ray of it. So it's definitely set to be a weekend of making the most of it. I hope you all will be too!

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