I am a freelance writer and editor, passionate about slow fashion, Italian cinema, the colour pink, David Bowie, London, poetry, subcultures, 'Demolition Lovers' by MCR, white beer and red wine.
- Top Story - June 2023
the lion on my shoulder Top Story - June 2023
He is the only part of my life that I can’t allow to change, grow up. He is never wrong, and if he is wrong it’s only because of his Italian temper, the odd tangling of his blue barbed wired nervous system. Nothing to do with a lack of something. He can’t be less of what I think of him. He cannot be a disappointment. For a long time I could not accept that he might even have any flaws. I couldn’t bear that.
How to Survive The End of a Situationship: A Guide
Scenario: you match with someone on Hinge or Bumble, you go on a first date. You see them again. And again. You take it slowly, don’t want to seem too keen - God forbid, mother wouldn’t be happy about that. But also, sod it, you know. They should know what you’re really like. Or maybe not? Should you wait before having sex? Or should you do it to see if you’re compatible? That’s important, right?
- Runner-Up in Epistolary Challenge
10 Inclusive UK Lingerie Brands
This is perhaps one of those whispered pieces of knowledge, possessed by and discussed only among lingerie-wearers: there’s an invisible, intangible barrier inside every lingerie drawer, dividing between the mostly pristine, ‘for-special-occasions’ sets and everyday underwear; including the infamous favourite bra, irreplaceable and shamelessly worn to the (plastic) bone.
Fern goes to Tenerife
Sometimes, some thoughts find me before I can find them. The moment I hopped on the plane - goofily swaying from side to side due to my injury, as if I was trying to dance with the beady-eyed flight attendant - my eyes drew words on the walls of my tired brain: “seat 12A, window, next to…?”
Puck’s Flower Crown
(words: sea - horses - light) One clean shirt, a pair of socks, a pair of boxers, and a sweater to keep me warm. I was just about to stuff my clothes into an old backpack, when my wife walked in, interrupting that small, yearly ritual. She wanted to know if it was absolutely necessary, and if I really – really – had to leave the day before our son’s Broadway debut.