This was the dinner table at one of my favorite Hong Kong evenings ever. Organized by beautiful Theresa, we had a super glam, super giddy night out with seven friends at Gough's on Gough.
The cocktails were superb, and simply looking at this photo makes me salivate (it is 10.52 AM here in London). It also makes me miss the ease of Hong Kong friendships, and the adventurous nature of Hong Kong expats.
I loved my outfit on this evening (a silver sequin skirt, a black shirt, white pumps and a cream bag) and snuck a comically smug bathroom selfie to remember the night.
Zara black shirt (similar HERE)
Gucci bag (similar HERE)
I must admit I often wonder where is that girl now?
As much as I love London, and as much I was ready to be closer to my son's boarding school, the last few months have been difficult frankly, and as you may have noticed from the lack of posts, fashionable restaurants and glamorous outfits have not exactly been on my mind.
It's taken me some serious reflection to realize that sending my baby girl off to boarding school along with her older brother has been the hardest thing I have ever done. She wanted to go, and I thought it would be great for her, but suddenly being alone and purposeless afforded me way too much time for the kind of existentialist thinking that makes one want to hide under the duvet and eat milk chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Not that long ago I turned 50 and I don't think I ever quite got used to it. The day itself was wonderful, and my birthday party at Arcane was great fun, and even the day after seemed just fine, until weird behavior started sneaking in. I bought a variety of very short skirts (one in black leather), a skintight off-the-shoulder mini dress, and a tube top.
Desperately trying to hold on to girl status I also acquired some Heidi Klum push-up bras. None of these silly things ever got worn of course, and looking at them in my box destined for Vestiaire, I feel worried for that Dianne.
I've never been particularly good at facing reality, but not accepting one's age is obviously fruitless. Yes, there are things that can be done on the outside, but right there underneath our skin is reality central: biological age muscles, biological age organs, and no amount of botox or fillers will make 50-year old joints any younger.
The transcontinental move from Hong Kong to England seemed a minor obstacle when I left in late July of this year, but I suppose when you throw it all in the mix, it's no wonder I've been hopelessly absent for the last few months.
I am very well aware that getting properly dressed in the morning greatly improves one's chances of having a good day, but that's easier said than done when the thought of having a shower is so overwhelming you can't move your feet in the direction of the bathroom.
But here I am, baby steps, sitting in front of my laptop, wanting to share, and craving fashion.
Covent Garden
Duke of York Square, Chelsea
Christmas is everywhere in London, and it is almost impossible not to feel childlike elation for the weeks ahead. I wrote myself a job description a few days ago, trying to figure out my purpose now that my girl and boy are at school. I am first and foremost still here to love, support, and encourage my children, but I am also the manager of my house, and finally I am still proudly fashionexpat, because even though I haven't quite managed to pay my council tax, I do still love clothes and figuring out how to wear them well.
If you are reading I guess it means you haven't given up on fashionexpat. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I feel about that. Thanks a million for your patience.
xx Dianne
