This weekend I was mostly . . .
Catching up with Emma in the gorgeous Cake Café on Camden Street. I had the divine home-made beans on toast (as did she), washed down with an elderberry fizz with Prosecco – NICE! Then I wandered down Grafton Street and …
Then I wandered down Grafton Street and – boringly – picked up some homewares in Stock, and in Kitchen Complements, where the lady looked absolutely affronted at my innocent question, which was: “Who do I sue if this sets my hair on fire?” Obvious joke, mais non?
I also bought myself a bunch of flowers from the delightful but frightening ladies on Grafton Street – €20 for the nicest bunch I’ve seen in years.
On Saturday night, I was very fashionable in denim, fur and sequins (yes, all at once, The Man Repeller would be so proud) in Whelan’s, where the DJ had some kind of very odd existential crisis going on and played Rihanna’s Rude Boy and the Pixies and the Beatles all in the one night. VERY ODD.
So my weekend shopping was not of the sartorial variety, but my weekday shopping (ie, Monday, the day I had off and spent shopping) was. Will update ASAP, having some work-life scheduling difficulties. In the meantime . . .
(I’m sorry, Ciara, I know you hate James Blunt and happy guitar pop. I’m sorry to everyone else that this isn’t very fashiony, but sometimes, just sometimes, you want to tell people what else you do with your time. Why? Because you’re an oversharer, duh.)