Meet my hair. It had so much potential. Thick locks, a bit wavy and with just the right amount of frizz to make it look cute. As if there was ever such a thing, right? Well, enter the discovery of Pinterest and therefore endless lusting over beachy blonde balayaged locks, three recent hair frying sessions that even the great almightly Olaplex couldn’t salvage and you can imagine it ain’t looking good.
Where do I even begin? In a city where it took me less than 24 hours to carry a stray kitten into my hotel room, things are bound to happen. Someone once told me that Marrakech is beautifully ugly and even though it seemed a bit harsh at first, I now finally understand what he meant.
Paris is one of my favourite cities for an almost infinite amount of reasons, one of them being our shared adoration dough. Whether it’s a crunchy ‘just out of the oven’ baguette, a beautiful buttery croissant or taking form of the often underrated yet absolutely exquisite pain au chocolat, Paris has got you covered.
After 27 somewhat rocky years, I’ve finally come to terms with my skin. And to be honest, I shouldn’t really be complaining. But there’s no fun in accepting what is there and not trying to improve your assets. Am I the owner of flawless skin? No(t yet).
This is coming from someone who used to think that this drink was reserved for old people, hipsters and quite frankly aliens. Growing up, I couldn’t imagine any drink worse than coffee. A bitter blackened brew with an aftertaste that would haunt you in your worst nightmares. Oh boy, was I wrong.