Doing The Fashion Thing

As far as drowning myself in the absinthe of fashion, I'm just getting started.
I adore the British High Street Fashion mixed with a little Vintage, topped up with a few European twists (think Berlin, think Amsterdam, think Málaga) as well as the latest "Vogue talents" (see Alexander McQueen and Marchesa - my current top 2 choices).

Just recently, I had the pleasure to stumble upon the Marchesa Spring 2012 collection. It's like stepping into a jazzy and deliciously frivolous dream. If you have the chance, look it up, it's worthwhile. My favourites are definitely the 1920s inspired and golden gowns.. Oh to lose one's self in an afternoon of frills and thrills!

Back to British High Street, let me just say that there is no place like Topshop.
You walk into one of their shops, expecting fairly little (if you haven't visited or heard of them before) and you waltz out after about five hours, feeling elated and perhaps a little concerned that your wardrobe will never be the same again. Before Topshop and I met, my dress style was dull and plain. I dressed because I had to, not because I particularly enjoyed it. Oh yes, and I probably would have been arrested for indecent exposure in public, or something like that. Anyway, I dressed like everyone else in my area and I hated it:
Where was the creativity? Where was the originality? Where was the struggle to find that one item of clothing that would put a smile on one's face every time she or he wore it? Where, where, where?
And then, it happened. I met Topshop and fell hook, line and sinker. I was in love and this love has never disappointed me. Scratch that, it has never greatly disappointed me - there were angry mutterings against the prices, I do admit that. Nevertheless, Topshop has always found a way to make my wardrobe glitter with pride.
Back in the day when I lived in a country without Topshop, I dreamed of jumping in a cab once I touched down on British soil and proudly direct the cabbie "to Topshop!". The fare would have killed me, no doubt. But then my soul would have swayed itself to Topshop. Bit of a creepy image, someone's soul happily floating around the lingerie department, or trying desperately to find the right shoe size at Kurt Geiger (-1 floor in the Oxford Street Topshop, if I'm not mistaking). Hmm. I shall retain my soul for now.

And here I am, stuck in another place without Topshop. I've been here since June. It's horrible, but at least I'm saving money for when I finally return to Ye Olde "Queendom"...
Who knows what I'll find?

PS - Try this song for a kick to your shopping trips, Taste It by Jake Bugg.