I find having my hair cut an ordeal – this is news to none of my friends who I’ve all bored with the 101 reasons I hate everything about trusting my locks to a complete and utter STRANGER. Starting with the inane small talk about where you’re going on holiday (I never go anywhere, cue awkward pity), to how an inch can be anything between 0.5cm – 10cm, depending on how moronic your hairdresser is. To cheer myself up when I returned from 1.5 hours of torture – and knowing this weekend is set to be one of actual summer – I had a dig through my clothes for something pretty to wear.
And as I still haven’t gotten back on my usual vintage style posts, this’ll have to do for now. Here I am, sans 4 inches of hair (I asked for 1).