When the zeros line up on the twenty-four hour clock.

university of liverpool graduation
French Connection blouse: gift (similar here and here). Charity shop pencil skirt: £1.50. Christian Louboutin Nude heels: £75, via charity shop. Links of London necklace: gift. Rotary watch: gift. Chanel "Gabrielle" lipstick. Chanel "Dragon" nail varnish.
albert docks liverpool
cavern club liverpool memorial
liverpool albert docks
paul mccartney statue cavern club
Charity shop lace blouse: 50p. American Apparel woven skirt: £33. Russell and Bromley flats: 50p, via ebay. Ralph Lauren sunglasses. Rotary watch: gift.
the quarter restaurant liverpool
antony gormley another place crosby
university of liverpool english ba graduate
university of liverpool fashion blog
university of liverpool graduation ceremony
university of liverpool students

No, you didn't miss anything, these are just some of the photos I never got round to posting from my graduation. On Friday, it will be a year exactly since we threw our mortar boards into the clear blue sky, and what with all those in the year below sending snapchats and selfies my way, it seemed as relevant a time as ever to write a little throwback, of sorts. I always wonder whether these kind of posts are a little self-indulgent (the last one I wrote was waaay back in October), so feel free to scroll through the photos and move onto a prettier blog, of which I've listed plenty here, or hang around for a while, there might be some lols.

When I graduated, I was a little optimistic, which I can 100% guarantee is how the majority of undergraduates feel when they collect their degrees on stage. The usual things ran through my head about how I'd be employed within a month or so, be saving up to move out, and be livin' the dream in London. In short, I knew fuck all (technical term) about the reality of the job market, and found it pretty tough to come to terms with being one of the 2.51 million (May 2013, the month I left uni) out there who hadn't landed feet first in my chosen career. If you'd have told me that I'd be moving to Germany before the year was up I would have laughed plain in your face, and still to this day I'm a little surprised I did it, particularly considering I wasn't in the best frame of mind and physical condition to deal with the stress and upheaval of moving abroad. But, six months later, I came back with words like Katzenjammer under my belt and a whole load of new friends from all over the world.

Bumping back to reality was a bit of a bummer. Although it was rad to be within walking or train distance of everyone, it was frustrating to come back with no real idea, yet again, of what was about to happen. I completed two weeks of jury service, followed by two weeks interning at Cath Kidston's head office over in Shepherd's Bush, then four weeks at Oasis closer to home in Shoreditch, which has since been extended. Attempting to continue my social life (a what, now?) and not let this blog fall completely by the wayside (which I've come pretty close to many, many times in the past few months, and still wonder now whether perhaps getting eight hours sleep might be of more worth than replying to emails) has proved to be pretty tricky, particularly on an intern's budget, but that steadfast british resilience keeps seeing me through, and my need to be melodramatic quite clearly continues.

It's just a little funny to think of how much has changed in a year, since that landmark-to-me-moment. I've lived in two countries, been in five, met countless amounts of people, published 95 blog posts (including this one), and have 17 sitting in my drafts folder never to see the light of day, bought three stripy tops, been to four festivals, seen arctic monkeys three times, eaten a few litres of hummus, and got one job.

So yeah, sorry this #tbt isn't on a Thursday, but when have I ever done things by the book?
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Switchblade smiles, they go on for miles.


Look at me, pretending I care about the World Cup. Every four years, I have the full intention of paying attention to what's happening in the stadium, yet every time I realise I have a life (soz if you're a fan, but watching football on TV just doesn't appeal all that much). I'll obviously be rooting for Germany in tonight's World Cup final as I think living in Bavaria for six months gives me that tenuous right, but otherwise today is a day like any other, and I fully intend to spend 90% of it in my pyjamas. It does however provide ample caipirinha opportunities, so I guess it's not all drunk middle aged men in pubs.

Always one for a theme, I did think I ought to get into the spirit somehow, and wore my new Converse for the first time. I used to own a few pairs of high tops, but then went through my phase of feeling incredibly short and finding that an inch or two would be preferable to comfort. Give it a few years, and I've decided that maybe permanent blisters aren't worth it, and it sure is swell (geddit?) to be reunited with such a comfy pair of chucks. Add in a pair of jeans, a floaty gingham top, and a dash of wind, and you've got an outfit that's at least pub final ready, if not Brazil suitable - can't blame a girl for trying!
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Just 20,000 people standing in a field.

Kimono, top, skirt, sandals, purse and hat: c/o New Look.

When the average temperature raises to some point above uncomfortably chilly, it becomes what I like to refer to as "festival season". So far this year I've been to one British festival (in case you've already forgotten, it was last month's Parklife festival), and Isle of Summer in Munich, with hopefully one more coming up at the end of the summer. You could say that I'm going through mud withdrawal symptoms right about now. So when New Look got in touch to ask whether I was interested in styling up a festival inspired look, it didn't take much effort on my part to put it all together - it's almost second nature by now! This is, admittedly, more of a luxe festival look (am I really wearing heels? Try that in mud up to your knees), but I still think there are definite late-afternoon-in-the-comedy-tent vibes down to my lovely longline kimono, which only the coolest cats like Millie Mackintosh and Daisy Lowe can pull off well into day four. I ended up wearing this to pop into town and then to the pub quiz, but I would gladly have worn this in front of the Pyramid stage, had I been given the chance. For now, the field next to my house will have to do!
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Hello, I'm Rebecca: social media exec, new-ish coffee drinker and loafer-wearer.
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