She also fed me supplements

Neon roller discos, ozempic alarms and rogue abandoned street meat

Whoever thought it was a good idea to coincide London Fashion Week with the dregs of half-term clearly doesn’t have children. Or maybe they do and they’re just mentally unwell. And whoever called it fashion week, when it is actually over a weekend, is just a plain fucking liar. From last Friday to Sunday, i balanced my time between a neon roller disco, where i watched a woman fit her head and then her entire body through a giant balloon, which felt nasty, sexy and dangerous all at the same time, and potentially not suitable for children? I went to a house party in a fake house, which someone said was owned by Stormzy; watched actual Stormzy stroke a piece of art in someone else’s house. Made Chinese paper lanterns in the Docklands using scissors meant for left handed people which made me feel like i was on acid bc i couldn’t cut in a straight line and for ages couldn’t understand why, listened to a story about a monster named Nian; read an essay to a group of fashion people about that time i went to the funny farm, while nursing a funny tummy, celebrated the launch of a shoe, a fragrance, and a book, celebrated Reuben eating all his vegetables, took part in an epic lego battle, listened to my children chant “kiill, kill, kill” to each other and then had to promptly split them up, took about a million selfies in a medley of fits, posted more spon con than you can shake a stick at, caught the plague while capturing some alfresco content, opened a show while very, very bloated and wearing jeans(!) got told off at Claridges for stealing the guests champagne and tried to do the whole dont you know who i am thing, when i dont even have a clue, and got told my someone at a fashion show that just bc i was born in the year of the horse, doesn’t mean this year is gonna to be good for me, in fact it’s going to be really intense and i should be wearing something red everyday to ward off evil spirits (you know who you are).

Oh i also went to the baftas which started off really great with Alan Cummings making a joke about everyone turning their ozempic alarms off, but then got kinda awkward. And then i went to about 5 million Bafta after parties, bc im a big fat party monster, with no concept of knowing when to go home. After doing the whole hog on autopilot, without really being present for any of it, by Monday I was hung (literally) drawn and quartered. Feeling like a bad wife, bad mother, and bad it girl. An all round shit girl, which i guess is what happens when you spread yourself. Roll on milan!

What I saw

On Tuesday, while on the school run, I saw a lone, uncooked chicken drumstick lying in the middle of the pavement. Sprawled in all its fleshy, pink, salmonella glory, it seemed to wink knowingly at me. The spoils of the street, road kill for the Uber Eats generation. I couldn’t understand how it had got there, it’s not like someone was snacking on raw chicken as they walked down the street, were they? I mean i did just read a story about a man caught chowing down a severed human leg in the States. The year of the fire horse has gotten off to a strange start.

What I watched

I watched countless videos of myself walking a fashion show from a plethora of different angles, and realised i urgently need to stop smoking.

What I bought

This week I bought a Victorian cast-iron hanging rack, which we want to suspend in the middle of our kitchen. Basically, the vibe in there is a cross between a Vermeer painting, Gangs of New York and an underground torture gang, of which Bev is boss. The dom to Reuben and Phoenix’s sub. There’s something very subversive about introducing chains into a domestic space, especially one that caters to children, and one i’m heavily leaning into.

What I read

I read about an influencer who identifies as a snake and was found slithering all over the streets of Japan in a snakeskin crop top and matching tail. Its been living rent-free in my head ever since.

What I did

On Thursday, I went to Milan to watch Demna’s debut show. Mossy in a thong, fake mink on his phone, and a ginger man walking like he was being defrosted from a block of ice, it was LA botched meets SoundCloud cough syrup wetdreams. Love.

What I had done

On Tuesday i went and had EBO2 therapy again. The whole thing lasts an hour, during which you’re not allowed to use either arm, and so you have to rely on the mercy of a nurse to itch your nose, feed you water and potentially read out your texts, which is an unusual and humbling experience. She also fed me supplements which i swallowed without question, although they literally could have been anything and now is something that im questioning.

Best meal

I went to China Tang 3 times over the weekend despite being basically allergic to gluten, salt and soy, but in the words of Charli XCX, i dont care, I love it. From those porcine balls of delight, you know the ones that burst fragrant soup into your mouth at first bite, to those decadent slithers of duck, a millefeuille of meat, schmaltz, and cracked skin, which is almost like you’re biting into leather, this is dining at its most elite. And actually, last time I went Freddie the maitre d ‘ gave me some of his fake nails that he’s designed, which had tiny illustrations of Edward Enninful on them. Because, well, why not?

Quote of the week

“I was so hungry I started wanking to cucumbers” - jaime

Random thoughts of the week

Why is there never enough water in a hotel room?

Should i become a Soundcloud rapper?

Am i too old for the rave?