August 31, 2016


Dearest essentials, la crème de la crème. harness; Zara glasses

August 30, 2016


Spontaneous escapades to the Royal Palace when life seems to lack majesty. Gold spilling from the ceilings onto what seems like endless promenades between mirrors, in this ethereal corner of heaven.
Lace, fur and chokers remain the dearest essentials of mine, even in summer. Also, drinking fresh lemonade from a crystal flute is becoming a habit.

August 16, 2016


Zara coat; Oh.Skin leather harness
Enter, London. Ambient, vibrant and full of life at any point in the day. Here, you are never alone, as the streets are always busy, and yet it is mostly in crowds that you catch yourself feeling lonely. I suppose it's something you come to learn eventually, not to seek the company of others, but rather to focus inward and, without wishing to sound clichéd, enjoy the moment, forgetting the negative thoughts that underlie loneliness in the first place. It's all about going with the flow and living mindfully, but with the added element of learning to be impulsive and make crucial decisions when the time is right, all on your own. Just let it happen (cheeky Tame Impala reference because I haven't separated myself from 'Currents' for more than a couple days at a time this summer, after seeing the band at Rock Wercher).
The people, the buildings, all the lights in the streets and shadows in the dark alleys- it all merges into one big entity. Much like other big cities, London is, to put it simply, its own little world. It's independent, you will find yourself needing it more than it needs you. It consumes you and tires you out, but you love it, because London is without a doubt one of the best cities in the world. During my time here,  I involuntarily, yet nearly completely distanced myself from everything that I had back home, including the blog. It may have something to do with the fact that between spending time at uni or in my halls room resting, there wasn't much in my daily routine to photograph. Taking pictures of something brings you closer to it, and I already spent so much time in my room that I couldn't possibly have wished to distance myself from it any more. I guess I just needed space.

So here I am, giving it another shot after months of absence. Hoping this try is the last one I'll need.

December 23, 2015


Spot check: the Parc du Cinquantenaire is one of my favourite places in Brussels. I especially love it in spring, when it's filled with people having picnics on the grass, enjoying the sun and the breeze of the fountain. This is where families come to spend time together, where first dates take place and where friends reunite after a long time apart. In a way, it reminds me of the Jardins du Luxembourg in Paris- both places have a very welcoming vibe and time seems to stop whenever you're there, admiring the park and the neoclassic architecture of the structures around it.
The buildings are actually museums- I remember visiting the cars museum as a kid and being fascinated by all the different models of luxurious vintage cars that were on show (still daydreaming about that Bugatti type 57, to be completely honest!) The sleek design of the cars influenced my sense of aesthetics more than I could realize- it made me develop a lust for something modern and futuristic, yet elegant all the same. As I got older, I felt a burning desire to dress as though I would be cruising down the boulevard in one of those bad boys- bright lips, wind in my hair, eyes tactfully camouflaged behind a pair of opulent sunglasses. The ultimate femme fatale. I'm channeling the same kind of vibes in this rather pure white/creamy look, the golden heels to mirror the shine of a polished car is an extra plus. Although I do love dresses, I always end up coming back to the suit for a glamorous look. It's simple and classy with a bit of a bold edge, or in other words- exactly what you want. Who said a woman is any less feminine in a pair of trousers?

December 20, 2015


Zara jumper, heels, clutch; Mango trousers
My family helped me move all my luggage out of my bedroom into the car on a sunny mid-September morning. They would barely let me lift a finger, I just stood next to the open car door and waited. After all of the typical good-bye rituals, I buckled myself into the passenger seat, took a last glance at my empty bedroom window through the rear mirror and drove off to the train station. Destination: London.

It has now been three months since the day I first walked into my room in halls and unpacked my belongings. I had brought so much with me- three enormous suitcases filled with books, clothes, photos, decorative pillows, anything that would make it feel like home. And it did. Nevertheless, I must've spent my first day in London resting on my bed, trying to fully understand the fact that I've moved to one of the craziest cities in the world.
Oh, how I've come to love that craziness. The city, always in a constant state of rush, always moving and changing, has a raw kind of charm. While, yes, there is one colour to describe the entire city with the entirety of its streets, buildings, sky and people (grey, what a surprise), it feels alive. And even though being in massive crowds can be overwhelming, it is easy to feel like you're a part of it all. Truth be told, often the more people you are surrounded by, the lonelier you feel. I appreciate the time I have with my friends now more than ever- it feels great to have a constant group of people to come back to after a long day spent at the university's campus in Oxford Circus, where everything being frantic is the norm. I am lucky if I get home before half seven when I finish classes at six, due to the cramped underground stations; at rush hour, it's like the hunger games in there. But once you're back out into the surface, you just carry on with your day as if you did not just wrestle that man with an umbrella to fit on the tube. Go figure.

I am now back home in my sweet sweet (not jut because of the abundance of chocolate and waffles) Brussels for three weeks. Twenty-one days of nothing but pure relaxation. The attic has been converted into my own little flat, now that my younger sister took over my old bedroom. I now have a floor all to myself. I've been keeping myself busy with this new interior design project opportunity, gathering bits from all over the house in order to create a space that is welcoming and cosy. My attic is my own little oasis, my getaway spot. Here, Chet Faker is on repeat and time seems to freeze on the pages of a Salvador Dalí coffee table book, in between the dancing candle lights, for a moment just long enough to realize that you're feeling right at home.
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