The one were I stop myself from buying yet another grey skirt.

Most days, I dress like a librarian with expensive taste. Not like a real librarian, obviously, since real librarians dress a lot like real teachers, which is a far cry from how they dress in old movies. Or porn. But this means brogues, pleated wool skirts and cashmere cardigans. You know the drill.

The thing is, I really have enough clothes. Not as much as I did before The Great Purge of 2010, but still. Enough. The things I constantly have to keep myself from buying more of, is grey skirts. And cardigans, but that´s another post.

I´m really trying to keep the "one in, one out" policy, but today I very nearly bought this skirt. God help me, when I die, they will probably discover hidden stashes of grey skirts under my bed, at the back of my kitchen drawers, and in the attic!

Dear Santa,

Imagining what to wear to work, is one of my favorite sunday morning passtimes. I might be a shy rebel, but I am a rebel nonetheless, and I´m contantly trying to raise the bar for dressing for work. My oh so subtle plan is to dress so spectacularly well for work, that my collegues will be subconciously inspired to do the same. Or something. I really want those shoes. But € 495? A wee bit steep.

And I haven´t been a good enough girl this year to even bother writing to Santa about it.

My dirty little secret, or why I´m a rebel

I´m a teacher. We´re not supposed to care about fashion. But I do, because I´m a rebel. But I do it in secret, because I´m rather a shy rebel. Or possibly a coward. And seriously misunderstood.

The thing is, I just recently bought a bag. The one in the picture. And I love it. Worth every cent I paid, but I seem to be the only one in my life who gets it. My granny would have understood. She died a few years ago, and I miss her a lot. Had she still been here, I would have talked to her, but since she´s not I´ll talk to the internet instead. That, she wouldn´t have understood.