Let's get pretty.

Well, children, it's been a while. Tex has been very busy wearing black-rimmed glasses, frowning at powerpoint slides in mostly-white rooms, and buying lots of economy fare tickets to San Francisco (these activities are collectively and laughably known as "founding a startup"). But that's all settled now. The lawyers have gone home and Tex can dedicate her full attention to you, Cutty darling.

So we're going to get pretty.

First stop is London, to visit Shirley's Wardrobe.

An offensively beautiful collection of clothes you'd probably look ridiculous wearing (what are those puffy coats even made of?!), it's nonetheless aesthetic inspiration for the city-chic chick. If nothing else, it will remind you to keep your eyebrows plucked.

So with our wardrobe in order, we'll traipse along to visit Sarah, an old friend of Mummy's whose love letter to the world at large is Note to Self.
Beautiful clothes, beautiful notes, beautiful desks, and beautifully simple aesthetic curations. Oh, and Mummy went to prep school with her. Because of course Mummy went to prep school with her.


That done, we'll hop back across the pond to spend a little time with our favorite small-island girl at The Londoner.

Rosie's charm can be read from all the way across the Atlantic, and although her sweetness is sometimes a bit cloying, it -- like a good sticky toffee pudding -- never loses its charm. Follow Rosie's adventures exploring food, fashion, and all manner of other events in London; her travels abroad (she's currently in Phuket, if I recall); and her delightful days in the countryside with uncommonly handsome men of excellent standing.

And to round things out, we'll take the ferry over to pass a day or so with the dulcet-voiced darling of the emerald isle at her new writing post for Evoke.

Amy's always been an incredible delight and a light to our lives -- and her newest venture is cotton-candy fun to read. Soak in some celebrity gossip, do a bit of shopping, read up on how best to wash your hair and curl your eyelashes, and generally tumble around in a happy little sphere of techno-beautification. Yum.

And with that, dear readers, Tex and Coda must leave you. For we have promises to keep, and miles (read: bottles) to go (read: drink) before we sleep (read: drink). And miles to go before we sleep.
(poetic fade)


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