Slurp

Since my last *insert laughably long matcha order here* I’ve been positively dreaming about my next. So a couple days later I’ve returned to the scene of the crime. Today, however, the surrounding air is overwhelmingly thick with that aforementioned pungent, sweaty pork smell. Now, as a vegan, I’m not above admitting that meat can sometimes smell appealing… But whatever poor creature is currently being spirit-roasted among the market stalls smells unequivocally putrid. It turns my stomach.

This morning I was struck by a bolt of luck—something I’ve felt long overdue a taste of lately. You see, last week I made my thousandth (give or take) pilgrimage to Selfridges in search of loafers. This quest was inspired by a charming chat I had at the Wallace Collection with an eccentric, elegant older woman. She clocked my Mary Janes—Dune, circa two summers ago—and admired them before launching into tales of her mother, a woman she described as “incredibly vain” (her words, not mine). Yet the lasting wisdom her mother passed down: —Always wear comfortable shoes. A sign from the universe, no doubt, which I’m certain has been screaming at me in effort to stop my decade long love affair with heels. So I finally took the hint, taking it upon myself to find the comfiest (but still cute) shoes I could! —Luckily, in central London a girl is spoilt for choice.

I found these gorgeous loafers from “Carvela”. — now with a name like that, they’re practically made for me! Sliding on like butter— adorned with padded insoles, ergonomic arch support, and dreamy soft leather that felt worlds away from my usual punishing pumps. But alas, the baby blue pair I had my heart set on? Sold out. In Selfridges, the flagship store, and online! Devastating. There was a baby pink version, sure—but it wasn’t the one. The blue would’ve matched my beloved baby blue denim Coach shoulder bag — and I’m a big believer in matching your shoes to your bag.

Feeling a tad deflated, I shelved the idea for a few days. Got sidetracked, visited the cinema to see the new Final Destination. Surprisingly good, by the way! I mean, I’m a die-hard horror fan so I’ll watch any tripe. But this instalment as genuinely fresh, funny and of course, absurdly gory. That MRI death scene? 10/10! But I digress…

Today, I returned to Selfridges, resigned to maybe picking up the pink pair… But what do I find waiting for me? The baby blue loafers. In. My. Size. I grabbed them with the unbridled enthusiasm of my chihuahua attacking fallen table scraps—truly feral. Now, I’ll admit—I’m a tiny bit superstitious (read: paranoid and delusional). When something bad happens, I see it as a warning sign from the universe, a bad omen. But when something good happens? —Divine blessing! So yes, I felt deeply blessed to drop £140 on these new shoes. Is this the sacred enchantment of capitalism? Lol.

Afterwards, I pranced around Selfridges like I don’t already have the entire floor plan memorised with more clarity than my ability to do basic math. I go so often I can spot new stock—or missing items—in a flash. My good luck didn’t quite stretch across the road to M&S, though. I went in hunting for their vegan cookies (obsessed), but despite a well-stocked bakery aisle… Not a single bag in sight! But hey—you win some, you lose some. Maybe it’s the universe protecting me from inhaling 1500 calories in one sitting. Thanks, I guess?

So I hopped on the Jubilee line back to Borough Market, like a junkie with matcha on the brain. The train was unusually quiet, I even snagged a seat—another good omen… I slurped my matcha in moments. It’s just too good. I’ve always loved Earl Grey, but never imagined it would pair so beautifully with matcha. Yet here we are!

My period is due imminently, so any-moment-now that I resourcefully packed an emergency pair of panties in a Ziplock bag. Because let’s be honest; if the floodgates open, my nude skims thong won’t stand a chance. — Sorry Kim. My stomach is cramping up—like an internal air raid siren. Each pang more ominous than the last. —And so, on that highly dignified note I’m signing off.

Trying to quiet my inner critic and post here more often again! Thanks for reading—especially those of you here for the writing, and not just because I’m a hot babe who’s QR code sticker you scanned. Really want this to feel like a safe space for the people who care, not just another platform men ruin with their objectifying, entitled presence.