You can't just give it away like it means nothing.

Blouse: gift, Hobbs. Skirt: £1.50, Jigsaw via charity shop. Denim jacket: £63, Hobbs. Belt: 20p, charity shop. Bag: £3, charity shop. Shoes: 50p, Russell and Bromley via charity shop. 

Gem recommended I head to Le Marais if I had time, and with my favourite falafel vendor residing there (sorry 3am Camden van, you serve your purpose, but it's just not the same) it was hardly a push to get the metro to Hôtel de Ville and sample that chickpea goodness at L'as du Fallafel again (check out my very happy face in the last photo). Whilst in the area, we also headed to Kilo Shop, one of Paris' vintage shops that sells its wares based on how much it weighs. Unfortunately I left empty handed, but Sabby picked up another belt for her collection. When trying to find a London comparison to the area, the closest I can think of is soho, with bars residing next to cafés, then boutiques such as The Kooples and Sandro happily nestled alongside; it's the kind of place where you're bound to find something worthwhile if you just keep meandering up and down its connected streets, but our feet were getting a little tired, so we headed back to cité université for a bite to eat before heading to Le Poulailler.

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When the music's over.

Midi dress: £13, Primark. Belt: 20p, charity shop. Necklace: Sabby's. Shoes: 50p, Russell and Bromley via ebay. Bag: £3, charity shop.

Bon soir!

My whirlwind trip to Paris feels like a lifetime ago, even though I only came back on Tuesday. For Sabby's twenty-first, we headed to the Continent where she's been studying for the past few months as part of her course. I visited last December, but this time a whole cohort of us ended up jumping on the Eurostar to wish this girl a happy birthday. This time it was certainly a lot hotter (no need for fur hats), so I whipped out my only midi for a wander to the twentieth arrondissement. 

Before the rest of our sorry lot turned up, Sabby and I visited Père Lachaise. Admittedly not the jolliest location for a day trip, but I've always wanted to pay my dues to a certain Mr Wilde (thanks for the 2:1!), as well as Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Balzac, et al. Thankfully the sunshine took the edge off the dreary occasion, and we could wander the wiggly pathways without too much trouble, before heading to a café for mojitos, just in time to avoid the sudden downpour. We did, however, have to brave it to pick up Biggs from Gare du Nord, so I can only apologise for the wild hair in my outfit photos. Unlike my local club, there aren't pay-per-minute straighteners on parisian street corners.

For dinner we headed to Blend on Olivia's recommendation and, in short, it was good. Very good. We got there just before it opened at 7, and were worried as we were the only diners. Give it ten minutes, and we were glad to have got there, as a queue had formed, and we were able to stalk (or roll) past the rumbling bellies, full with burger and chips. 

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Take my hand and we'll make it, I swear.

Navy blouse: 50p, charity shop. Waxed jacket: £22, Primark. Shorts: Fat Face (old). Sunglasses: £2, Primark. Socks: £2, asos. Hunter boots: won in Char's giveaway. Bag: gift from Jazmine.

As I'm sure you've read on Olivia and Jazmine's blogs, last week we all headed South to catch the ferry to the Isle of Wight Festival. After a (very) last minute email from the ladies at Hunter, I found myself organising transport for the next day, and chucking as many baby wipes into a rucksack as I could find. I do like a good few days sat festering in the middle of a field (it's a lot more fun than it sounds), so it's hardly surprising that I took up the offer, and I am so glad I did. Spending the weekend with my favourite blogging pals (Lyzi included!) and my parisian friend Sabby aside, I finally got to see Blondie after several plays of Parallel Lines, as well as Rizzle Kicks, Stone Roses, Sub Focus, Modestep, Paloma Faith, and a band who I think are called Bon Jovi? For me, festivals aren't about making yourself look good, which is handy after attempting to draw catflicks in a tent. Instead, I found myself relying on a couple of disposable cameras and borrowing Jazmine's (thank you!) to get a few shots of my outfit on day three. A few of our fellow festival-goers seemed bemused at the whole concept of taking outfit photos, but I've just got my disposables developed, so I'm sure they'll find their way into a future post! I may not be heading to Glasto (sob), but I hope you lucky folks who are have the best time, and have a year's supply of toilet rolls with you.

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