One of the hardest things I’ve been struggling to come to terms with recently is something I like to call ‘adult payments’.
The far-reaching definition of ‘adult payments’ include such things as rent, council tax, paying for that man to come and look at the boiler and oven cleaner.
They are all things that no one in their right mind enjoys spending money on.
They come in horrible letters with your name on the front and you leave them in a little pile by the front door hoping that they’ll dissolve into oblivion or perhaps someone from Secret Millionaire will see what an upstanding human you are and offer to pay it all for you.
And the thing is with adult payments – they’re never ending. Not like never ending when you make too much pasta and you say ‘wow look I’ll never get through this’ and then 30 minutes into Scandal you’re like OH LOOK AT THAT, THE BOWL IS EMPTY.
I mean never-ending in that every month they turn up and you’re like I COULD HAVE SWORN I JUST PAID THIS AND WHO IS HAVING 8 SHOWERS A DAY IN THIS PLACE CAUSE WATER SHOULD NOT BE SUCH A PREMIUM PRICE?!!!
And that my friends is the crux of the problem. Because I don’t want to pay adult payments.
I want to spend my money on Whistles – on the orange fur coats and cashmere roll necks of this world. Not the toilet bleach and electricity bills.
Lookbook Whistles AW16*