Wicker, wicker, bo-bicker
Finding yourself a little down in the dumps and simultaneously in close proximity to shops can spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Alas, last Friday, and prior to hearing Ms Westwood's wise words I might add, my oh-so-sexy Wonder-woman Gladiators lead me astray. Naughtyyyy. They lead me to Topshop. But to be fair, I was on a wicker mission. Feeling a little holiday-bluesy, I wanted something that stuck two middle fingers up at the current grey blurgh that has the audacity to call itself weather. I knew wicker was the answer. As soon as I picked up this little lady the juices started flowing. I saw banana bubblegum, bicycle rides a la My Girl and the laid back to the max style of your average beach bum. Yeah, now we're cooking I thought. I'm also currently dribbling over frayed hems, too many rings, chipped red nails yeah (represent) and sequins in your most sexy places.
Shake, shake, shake seňora, shake it all the time.