Wittner has been tormenting me of late. You see, no one EVER names items after my name – I think I’ve found one pen with ‘Ruth’ written on it, but it was floral and ugly and no thank you. Not that I’m really into monogrammed la de da anyway, but its always nice to find something with your name on the rack.
So when Wittner sent me an email with a picture of shoes with MY NAME ON THEM (well, next to them), I was instantly in awe, and immediately fell in love with said shoes.
THEY NAMED THEM AFTER MEEEEEE! Continue reading “Ruthie! Shoes!”
My family has always had this tradition for Christmas Night: while everyone else is stuffing their faces with turkey and undoubtedly stealing batteries from the remote for new toy helicopters, we used to all cuddle up with a Milo and some chocolate money and turn on the BALLROOM DANCING.
It was a love that
the girls we all shared; we got to look at people floating round a dance floor, looking elegant/sexy/graceful/tanned, wishing we could be like them, and, of course, the FASHUN. I could talk about ballroom dance outfits until your ears bleed and you undoubtedly can no longer understand words other than *ooh sparkles* *gahh I love her feathers* *no love, that is too much LEOPARD*.
Continue reading “Let’s dance the night away”
Unfortunately, we live in a flat that is completely wardrobe-less. There is not even a linen closet in sight. When we first moved in, I was stressing about this aspect, and Jonno was his usual calm self, saying things like ‘It’ll be fine, we don’t have that much stuff’. Um, yes we do. The fact that we have any stuff is an issue. Because there is not a smidgeon of storage (unless you’re into storing dresses in the kitchen). Continue reading “Why clothing racks suck”