Here in London it's been ridiculously cold recently. I'm talking about the kind of cold that ruthlessly infiltrates your clothes and seeps into your bones inducing severe chill. And over the weekend my 08 resolution to always look stylish - and failing that halfway decent - was quickly put aside when confronted with the reality of freezing weather. On the Friday night my black flared trousers got completely soaked at the bottom almost rendering my toes useless - so much for being at the cutting edge of fashion. I got so frustrated that for the rest of the weekend I planned my outfits like I was an eskimo going out to hunt for food. My big Diesel puffa coat that I haven't reached for since like 2000 came out paired with straight leg jeans, converse trainers, a huge beanie hat, my boyfriends oversized fleece (yes you heard right a fleece) and a scarf - not the thin printed Hermes kind favoured by Nicole Ritchie either - wrapped over my entire neck. I looked like a puffed out Sumo Wrestler but you know what? I did not care. And as I sauntered past city chicks in uber stylish winter wear: skating skirts, navy tights, ballet flats, thin cardigans and red noses although let's face it I looked completely wrong inside I felt smug knowing that they might look great but I felt warm and toasty. And in that moment there is nothing on this earth that could've made me trade my supercomfy oversized fleece for their cute cropped jackets. Looking good and feeling great is the ultimate goal but I figure one out of two isn't bad and tomorrow's another day so weather permitting style will be back on the agenda.
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