Only Within.

Still Dreaming in Apocalypse.

My brief transatlantic adventure has come to an all too quick end, but it really does feel like ages since I was back home. If that makes any sense. No one is more shocked than myself that I actually up and went and did it all by my lonesome, but then, how else would it have happened. I can't imagine anyone following me around Windsor and London enduring all the little daubs and curios that unfailingly stopped me dead in my tracks. This way I get the experience and I am able to maintain all my healthy relationships.

One thing that struck me, and it is a stretch to say it struck me, but after returning from a country that is altogether bedecked in quilted Barbour and brogues I really can't deny anymore that the whole British heritage look I've been quietly championing has been well and truly dog-piled to death.* I could heap blame, scorn & thoughtful ridicule at a whole passel of places, but I think that would be a bit too easy and predictable. I'm just going to lay off it for a couple seasons, and maybe also be a little subtle about it. The tattersall is still thankfully unmolested so I still have my collection of Purdey shirts which aren't altogether useless. But for how long? Well moments maybe, but in Los Angeles that can be a lifetime. Chin Chin.
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* When there is very little in a shop like Topman that doesn't have faux leather elbows and shoulder patches you really should take a step back.

Occasionally There, Never Elsewhere.

Heading out for a while. Popping over to England to check out the State Apartments at Windsor. Sight seeing, and of course a little brick and mortar shopping in London. Holland & Holland for sure. Albam is a must, followed by Folk & of course Purdey. Audley House. I've almost have the sizing worked out for Purdey. Great customer service and exquisite little daubs. I've been drooling over their catalogues since my birthday orders came in!!

Train rides through the countryside. Knole, Petworth and that is of course if I can tear myself away from town. I may be tempted to just park myself in the British Museum and call myself an installation. End scene.

Always Sooner Than You Think

I think it goes without saying that I'm not overwhelmingly enthused about online retail. The idea of pointing, clicking & buying has always struck me as being a little too democratic. When something is available to everyone the appeal is lost a little. RRL recently tanked it by adding an online store, and that was a little baffling.

That being said I was more than thrilled to learn that British luxury retailer Asprey would be opening on online shop this fall. The vehicular acrobatics required to get into the Beverly Hills Hotel where our local Asprey store is located is quite beyond compare. Even for LA. And the shop itself is the size of a small dressing room which I think is a perfect size for a shop. You can't walk in, but are buzzed in, presumably when it's been determined you can afford to shop there (which I can't, but I generally go with people who can) and once inside it's pretty much what a personal shopping experience is all about. British retail is like that I find. American, well, I hear they are just ripping when it comes to steak houses and craft stores.

So you can imagine I was just fit to be tied when I discovered as I poked around on the Internet all weekend that the shop is now fully armed and operational. They even have a twitter account. Lovely little jewelry boxes and daubs and bibelots and I haven't even tried their fragrance although it is doubtful I will, but who knows. Holidays are approaching, and don't let me scare you, they seriously have gorgeous things in every price range. See for yourself!!

Yes We Will Report A Problem.

Our England has bowed out of the World Cup. Too much hotness for one island. All of it you just can't touch. Makes us sad and pretty sure this means I lost a fiver in the office betting pool, but it means that Super Hot Mountain of Yum Yum Matt Banahan may actually be back playing for Bath when I'll be over in Merry Ol'. Hour and a half train skip from London as the internet tells me. We just might have to.

One week to go and I'm off for a brief visit to the land of tweed, clotted cream and super hot and massive rugby players. I haven't thought of a single stitch to pack, but I have my eye on a few numbers I may want to snag. Travel naked or so they say.

No. I'm not one to plan. I prefer to vacillate between placid serenity and blood scorching panic. Why live a life of half measures. People might just think you're being insincere, and wouldn't that dreadful.

But until then...

Another day of sitting at a desk. Planning luncheon and then coming back and planning tea. Scrupulously deleting every email I receive before I have the bad sense to reply with what I'd actually like to say. Draft 48 emails I ultimately delete. Fill out paperwork, organize my pens & count them to make sure no filthy wretch has taken one. Wash my tea cup, avoid any bio-hazards in the communal kitchen and only barely just succeed. Pack up my shit and leave. Special screening of The Immortals tonight with delicious Henry Cavill. The temperature promises to be only slightly above boiling so a climate controlled theater almost seems like a must. Lets.

Keep Calm and Carry On.

Well the employment continues. My absence is inexcusable I know. The punishing hours have ceased & I think I got drunk with the freedom of a personal life. The whackness, thankfully remains.

Racist Black Lady seems to have a PhD in absolutely everything and will get out of her death bed to tell you all about it.

Office Jesus would like us all to remember that he is lactose intolerant. He would actually like to remind us every day. People have now started offering him pastry every morning to save him the bother of grasping for a segue. Pathetic really.

Closeted Vietnamese Muscle Jock wants to talk about all things being gay over really nice luncheons which he likes to plan, and yeah he now calls them "luncheons" since he saw you do it in an email. Cute.

Dude with the New York accent who claims to speak the most appalling German reminds everyone that he was "wait listed" at Georgetown. Whatever the hell it means, I reapply eye cream after wincing.

Homie that everyone calls the "Light NInja quite mother-fucking defies description.