On: Lessons In Love.

“Your taste in men… has always been questionable Sade” said Emmy one evening. I could feel her rolling her eyes at me through the phone, I grinned and laughed a knowing laugh. It was true, my taste in the opposite sex was somewhat problematic. I’ve always had an issue with regards to falling for the wrong people. From the crush in school with the braided hair a la Lil Bow Wow era, tall and wiry, with skin the colour of that first morning espresso (who subsequently bullied me from year 8 until year 11 for daring to fancy him – He was the ‘it guy’ of our year and I was the weird art kid whose skirt was too long, watched Naruto and had a concave chest), To the artsy Greek hippie with waist length curly chocolate hair complete with single dreadlock and a uh… unique sense of style (although he did introduce me to Bonobo, very good coffee and an abundance of brilliant indie films).

When I unceremoniously split with my boyfriend during my thesis submissions, I swore on cupid that I was done done done with relationships. Heartbreak is a bitch, she wrings you, she pushes you, she almost… breaks you, but she doesn’t and after hours, days and months of crying and pining, life continues as always. You go to work, you drink one too many glasses of wine with your girlfriends, you go to the gym, you keep on going and then suddenly… Your heart doesn’t hurt so much. You don’t flinch when people say his name. You don’t feel a pang of sadness when you smell his perfume on the tube, instead, you smile and understand that he was another lesson in love
You see with the culmination of each crush, flame, boyfriend, I unknowingly flourished. I got closer and closer to what I truly wanted in a lover. Taking baby steps further and further away from “Dang he’s hot” to “I love the relationship he has with his family”. Moving from present-day attributes that will fade in time, to characteristics that are more future focused. With crush A, I learned that I shouldn’t let any man belittle me, and that actually I am pretty damn amazing and should not have feelings for someone who thinks otherwise. With crush B I understood that in the end, the most important relationship I will ever have is with myself and I harnessed the power of true self-love. With flame 2.0 I realised that what I thought I wanted in a long-term spouse and what I actually wanted were two very different things. My focus shifted off how good looking he may, what job he had if he had bought a house etc and I began to understand the importance of a guy who is generous, kind, pious, and sweet.

With my last boyfriend, I learned that it is better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all. I look back and I can honestly say that I’m happy he dumped me (and also happy he dumped me during my submissions as it gave me more energy to pump into my work strangely enough). If he hadn’t have ended things, I probably would have dragged us through the relationship until we both resented each other (Hey I don’t like giving up ok! But sometimes you have to face the facts). I’m enjoying singlehood right now and it’s fun to feel the fluttering wings of a blossoming crush unfolding in my stomach, it’s nice to be able to actually laugh with girlfriends at the fact that I spent a solid two weeks in my room crying and binging on Chinese food post-breakup and lamenting my impending cat and dog mama status. 
So what I’m trying to say is, take the burnt out remnants of the fire that was once a passionate relationship, and with it understand that you are a different person than you used to be, you have grown, your heart is wiser and you are closer to being with the person you were destined to be with (I’m a huge believer in things happening for a reason). Keep your mind open, be prudent with your heart and always always always trust your instincts. 

With that said, Happy Valentine’s Day – Whether you’re single, unsure, in a relationship, married, separated, divorced or widowed. I hope you show yourself a little love.



A Plot Twist.


When Full Stops Turn Into Commas,

December 22nd I think. Or maybe it was the 23rd, I can't remember. But what I do remember is having to run home last minute to get changed out of the leopard print skirt and slogan knitted jumper I was wearing, and into the blackest most 'I'm too cool to be 'cool', but I'm obviously very cool with this ensemble' turtleneck and some matching black jeans, hanging halfway out of my laundry basket. I crawl on the floor searching for my comfy Topshop leather boots, pile my hair into a top knot, grab my oyster card from the dressing table and quite literally, leg it to SE1. Out of breath and mildly confused, I reach my destination when my phone rings. Bzzzzz Bzzzz Bzzzzzzzz! I'm already tight on time, so I consider clicking the red decline button, but then I register the number and my heart drops into my stomach. Oh no, oh no, oh no, I think as I answer. I hear a frenzied "We are so so sorry oh my gosh! Your interview has been cancelled - Have you arrived at the office yet?" "Yes... Yes, I have, I'm literally outside" I say very quietly. After much back and forth, I accept their apologies, wish them a lovely Christmas and walk pointedly to any coffee shop I can find and I sit with a flat white in one hand and a mixture of tears, concealer and smudged mascara coating the other. "In your time", I whisper to myself on the train home later that evening. In your time. 
December rolls into January with terrifying speed, and I return to the UK with my belly filled, my skin two shades darker and my soul filled with memories of family, sunshine and a lot of dancing. On the second Monday of the new month, I receive a phone call whilst writing notes on encouragement and persistence in achieving goals, it's the same kind woman from December asking if I was still looking for that particular role. I say yes and the next day I'm repeating that same journey again, this time with less laboured breathing and a heart crying out "In YOUR time. Everything good in your time". Usually, when it comes to job interviews I prepare methodically, almost insanely. I arrive two hours early to go through my obsessive notes about the practice profile, brushing up on my BREEAM and Lifetime Homes Knowledge. This time, I barely looked up the practice and only remembered my portfolio as I was halfway to the bus stop. 

I got the job...

I've been settling into my new role, tackling heavy deadlines and simultaneously trying to figure out a tonne of construction lingo as well as technical and structural drawings (my pet hate) with a sense of gusto. It has been... Extraordinarily challenging so far. I laughed with a friend the other day saying when we finally get what we pray for, more often than not, it's what we prayed for but with some life lessons attached to it. We don't get what we want and then a full stop. Oh no! Life is a series of commas, ellipses, dashes, colons, semi-colons, brackets, exclamation marks!!! (of which I am very fond of) and inverted commas. So right now, I think... there's a semi-colon at the end of where I'm currently at, thoughts of what next squeeze their way around my mind as I'm click clicking away at my desk, sipping a coffee and informing the client of when I'd be able to tackle that structural section. But for now, I welcome this semi-colon, the idea of a rolling stone gathering no moss, the not-so-impossible notion that finally, finally, my life seems to be heading somewhere again, and that my friends, feels oh so very very good. Another chapter of this book called life.

What I Wore...

Wrap Dress* - Likemary | Circle Bag (similar)* - Next | Necklace - Lekki Market | Merino Scarf* - Likemary | Block Heels* - Next | Lipstick - Colourpop 



Here's One I Wrote Earlier.

Istanbul, Turkey
It is 23:28 pm and I am on a flight to Istanbul. My mouth feels like a cavernous desert, arid and crackly. My eyes damp with a mixture of "I miss you already" and a heated exchange from the hours before: a blazing standoff between two very different, but very similar women. I sigh realising, it has only been eight days into the New Year and the air is already thick with palpable tension, tired bodies and unsaid words that lay just on the tip of our tongues, ready to roll off with the slightest intonation of enmity. I want to write and write and write and write on this flight. I want to jab the paper with my pen and let the ink bleed off of the pages. I want to transfer all of this pent-up energy into something, something good. I want to sow these seeds, fertilize and see.. something, pregnant with purpose. Carthasis. My favourite word. It rolls off my tongue too - Much like the words I spat angrily and half meant earlier.

With little sleep under my belt and my head and heart pounding rhythmically to the beat of one too many plastic tumblers of wine mixed with three cups of coffee, I eventually close my eyes and I think. My eyes spill over with tears, not happy or sad tears, just tears. I exhale "Whooooooosh..." and thicker and faster they fall, blurring my vision and then leaving me with a sense of clarity and vision for the remainder of the year. I glance over at my phone, registering that something is playing quietly in my ears, it's 'Oceans'. I feel my eyes well up again and this time I smile to myself.
"I feel like I've just flown 600mph head on into the most beautiful metaphor of my life. If you fly high enough, if you get above the clouds, it's a never ending summer"
- Caitlin Moran (How To Build A Girl).
Communication is said to be the key to life, and sometimes, just sometimes I think it is. Communication, unwavering love, kindness, humility... And the strength to say, "I'm sorry" and truly mean it with every fibre of ones being. Here's to, brick by not so boring brick (Paramore reference), rebuilding and restoring relationships, after all, we're only human.


Free Falling.

I thought long and hard about what I wanted my first blog post for this new year to be about but nothing came to me. I don't have an extensive list of things I want to do or even achieve in 2018. I don't have a detailed bucket list of items I'd like to tick off before the year is done. Nor do I really have any expectations of how this year may pan out.

If 2017 taught me anything, it's that "The best-laid plans of Mice & Men often go awry". Almost everything I thought was concrete disappeared in what felt like the blink of an eye. So for me, this year I just want to free fall. I want to take each day as it comes. I want to truly understand what it is to live, to wake up each morning, feeling the electricity we call life flowing freely through my veins, to inhale crisp sharp breaths of air deeply into my lungs, filling up my whole chest and breathing outwards, expelling this lifeforce and understanding what a privilege it is for me to be able to do such a thing. To walk and feel every weighted step pressing into the God-given dirt beneath my feet. I want nothing more, but to live this year. To be alive and be aware of the life that stretches out before me. 
Here's to a lively and lovely 2018


Latest Instagrams