Wishes

Maybe we could be each other’s soul mates

“Don’t laugh at me, but maybe we could be each other’s soul mates. Then we could let men be just these great, nice guys to have fun with.” Charlotte York, Sex and the City.

Lucky for me… I have my soul mate. But even better than that I am blessed enough that he will be there, for ever.

Months can go by, and a lot can change (believe me! I’m talking lovers, ex lovers, marriage, tattoos, weight, hair, and god knows what else) but there he is… My SOLE/SOUL mate.

6 years ago, god knows what month it was… I was put clubbing with a group of friends and my current boyfriend. I know exactly what I was wearing (high waisted harem black suit trousers, black Mary Jane Louboutins, low cut/low back white racer back ripped vest, and a very naughty, very see through, lace and silk bra; and of course, a chanel 2.55 – it will always be me to wear a vest that was slutty but I had picked up from a market in Vietnam, trousers from Topshop and then top the cost of my whole outfit by adding a bag and shoes!). Anyway; there I was walking along the high street of this little town that I had grown up in to go move my boyfriends car whilst he was busy buying everyone drinks… Who do I bump into? My love, my genie, Reece Morgan. Now what I haven’t mentioned is that – this club was full of nice girls dressed like hoochies! You would see a Chanel here, Kurt Geiger there, Prada there… But the main aim with these girlies was sluttiness and as you can probably tell; what I was wearing was sexy, subtle but never hoochie mumma! Maybe that’s why he chose me, only he could tell you that. The inimitable Reece. So there I am, treating the high street as a run way and I bump into an acquaintance, turns out he was heading to the same place I was drinking with his girlies. Before I knew it, 2 weeks later I was on a stone table, in a mesh body, with black lipstick, wet look black eyeshadow, slicked back jet black hair… Pouting and posing. And that was just the beginning…

Now, when I first came across Reece I just knew him to be an aspiring photographer with an amazing sense of style. It wasn’t until we had numerous Cosmos and Margaritas that I realised every element that makes him is pure fabulous. From his ever changing hair styles, ooh snap! To his huge collection of handbags from Louis Vuitton, Burberry, Chanel and Hermes. Not forgetting his irresistibly delicious personality.

Only Reece would turn up at one of my friends magazine launch parties in Mayfair and get papped on his way home, simply for looking so gorg and fabulous. As if! Crazy.

This man is there for everything whether it be a simple BBQ in the garden of my fathers ranch (me in flares and him in all black), drinks in Canary Wharf (me in 10 inch heels and him in vintage), winter cocktails in Covent Garden (me with my pink 2.55 chanel and him draping himself in fur), a burlesque show in the West End (me in all black apart from my rose gold courts and Michael Kors and him traipsing in Dior), a Cheryl Cole concert at the O2 arena (me in leather trousers and him holding a jug of Cosmo) or us trying to figure out a way to make pink fishnet mesh work in my dressing room.

But it’s not just the clothes, the memories and the designers, it’s the art – his art, my drunken ‘art’, the art of love (or trying I find it), our worshipping of art (whether it be SJP, bitching about Kim K, slamming Britney, or worshipping the queens of the red carpet and the skinny bitches behind a camera!). There is pure talent there, and not necessarily the talent that you make for yourself by having a subscription to Vogue, or trading in your mums vintage for the to-die-for-vintage, or dressing to impress… For me, he was born with it. It’s the air, the blood and all the different organs that put him together and create pure talent-full fabulousness!

Well ya know what, here’s to the men that have come and gone (and stayed!) for the both of us, the fashion faux pas (for the both of us!!) and here’s to the next 50 plus years where this (photographer, stylist, socialite, bitch, editor, realised) man will still be my soul/sole mate… Because no matter what happens I will be wearing my Louboutins as slippers and he might well be taking the trash out in his vintage Hermes.

Love you, DOLL.

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Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…

Over thinking. Over dreaming. Believing. Over Wishing. Naivety. Thinking. Impossibilities. Thinking too much.

JUST STOP.

For as long as I can remember, I have always let my imagination run wild, but not into the impossible, as I strongly believe. My imagination has always shown me possibilities but relied strongly on me doing the hard work, and always working 400% harder for something that my imagination created; rather than something I just naturally think of. There is a difference, please note, between my imagination, my natural thoughts & reactions, and my dreams & wishes.

With one topic (which could be an aspiration, a person, a materialistic item or relationship) that I have, for a while now imagined, thought of, and dreamt of… very often and it quite annoyingly takes up a lot of my day and brain capacity! Although, this was something that I didn’t realize I wanted so badly until I looked in the ‘mirror’ and found that I had done what comes most naturally to me, without even noticing, I made it so the one topic was untouchable. I pushed the one topic so far away, made it full of hate, full of distance; so that now I am left without it – without the possibility of it… I want it more than I ever have. [Even more so than when I first realized that I wanted the one topic.]

Or is now that because I cannot have it, I want it more? That old trick.

It was ever so wonderful, in the days where I got closer, I was ever so happy. At least, as happy as one could be, considering the environment and situation. The one topic was so painful, yet so utterly fulfilling. It felt mature, wise and very appropriate. It needed work done, although the cracks were the thing that made the one topic so beautiful.//

Either way, I will get it. I will make it happen. I know. From a past experience that lasted 3 years, I know I will. Regardless of whether it lives up to my expectations or not. I will get the one topic, in my hold, within my reach. It will, one day, be the reason for my smile. I really cannot wait to look back, and say ‘She said it, and she got it’…