When asked by a dear friend if I would “please mind my house, just for the few weeks while i’m away,” it sparked my immediate “yes” and no quicker would you see my bags packed, keys handed over and candles burning. Usually residing in the North, becoming accustomed to inner-city living resulted in 5 minute buses to any impulse destination, more of a weeknight night-life than ever thought possible, and a two bedroom Victorian-era terrace resembling the likes of my old dollhouse- it was perfect. While yes, it gave me a new appreciation for the simple things in life- space, food and cleanliness- it also made me adopt the Paddington care-factor. I’m referring to the experimental spirit of each individual’s style, colour-blocked striped coats, and the (at time, disgusting) amounts of designer bags.
With the idea that I would be shipping my own wardrobe over, I took it upon myself to venture into the endless supply of cashmere, Chanel and enough Acne boots to cater for their Spring runway parade that the house had on offer. The resulting images are of a girl whose dream wardrobe was finally at her disposal, and the chance to temporarily claim the Zadig fur was hers. While it was hard not to get carried away in this fantasy land of fashion and nik-naks, it brings you back down to earth when you realise the dishwasher won’t unpack itself, or the terrace’s inability to handle too much power. I did however, constantly find myself ironing in my star boots, or facing the dreaded uni work whilst dressed to the nines in every hue the Joseph blazer had on offer. Things reached an all-time crescendo when it came to eating out every meal, whether it was Jackie’s Cafe for her famous feta scrambled eggs, or the Drunken Chicken sandwich at Ruben Hills down the road, but nothing beat the Sunday morning feast at Kepos Street Kitchen- where pastries were in endless supply and the demand wasn’t far behind. It was when the bank account was hitting all time lows and I found myself mid-lecture with Helmut suit pants and no bralette beneath my lace cami, that I knew I was in trouble.
United by our love for design, all things fashion and an appreciation for anything originally beautiful, the unprecedented work-ethic seeping from every item in the house cemented that cliche advice of working hard, simply means- you get to play even harder. These are words epitomised in the humble owner, who graces the house each day and night, clad with the freshest look off the runway, and an even fresher tan from her recent Mykonos ‘work trip’- there is no doubt the luxury, the decadence and endless wardrobe supply are well kept and well deserved. The portrait of a PR patriarch: confident, creative and humble, while constantly taking each opportunity one giant leap at a time, my house-sitting experience was a week-long burst of inspiration more than anything, and I thank you, Elsie, for having me.
Acne Studios jeans, men’s t-shirt, leather MC jacket and Jensen Boots