I thought I liked winter, I really did.
The crisp, frost-bitten mornings, sparkling pavements, cool, dusky sunlight.
It all sounds so poetic.
And then you step outside and BAM. Your face feels like it's going to fall off, your nose starts running and, if like me your ears have the rude ambition to protrude from all hairstyles, you wind up with a pair of cold-air catchers either side of your face.
In sum, it's freakin' freezing.
But rather than pull my usual stunt of dressing like the Michelin Man, this year I seem to have ventured towards the other extreme and broken out the summer clothes.
Shorts, playsuits, t-shirts. The lot.
Maybe it's some kind of rebellion? An aesthetical statement that says "I see you, cold breath freezing in the air....but I don't care".
It quite probably also says "Look at me! I have no concept of seasonal dressing!"...
...maybe tomorrow I'll truly commit and break out the flip-flops?
Playsuit (worn as top): Dorothy Perkins // Shorts: Urban Outfitters // Necklace: from a holiday!