– I’ve noticed “fine lines and wrinkles” are becoming more prominent around my eyes in the last few months and I’ve sort of calmed down about it. I’ve forgotten to wear eye cream for weeks and other than recoiling in horror when I see a particularly bad selfie, I’m getting used to it.
I’d be lying if I said I was happy about them and I am definitely going to up that eye cream regimen, but I’ve acknowledged they are here to stay.
– I have accepted that I don’t like Negronis. Or the currently fashionable cocktails. I like neat scotch or a sweet cocktail with an umbrella. Champagne mojitos are the best. I have accepted that aromatics are not for me. Campari is another one I can’t get behind. I’ll drink an Old Fashioned, but I’d really rather a proper scotch.
– Other than winter coats, suits and duvets, I’m done with dry cleaning. There are kits you can purchase from Lakeland, yes, but ultimately, I have never seen a sheep shrink in the rain, so I call bullshit on this namby pambying of clothes. Be gently with them, use the right detergent, obviously utilise your extensive range of lingerie bags (Ikea do a good multi-pack) and be sparing with the iron. I’ve washed jersey suit jackets (thanks very much to the bird that pooped on me outside the British Library), trench coats, wedding guest dresses and all manners of fabrics. I don’t like the smell, I hate the random costing, I don’t like the wire hangers and my clothes just aren’t that fancy. I’ll wash my cashmere jumper (stolen from an ex-boyfriend which had been given to him by a former girlfriend) and it’s always been fine.
– When I was sixteen I would put away about nine cups of real coffee a day. I’m surprised I didn’t induce a heart attack. Nowadays, I will actively choose instant coffee and pop some cold water into it (I drink it black and I’d rather not wait for half an hour until it’s at a drinkable temperature). Real coffee makes my heart race and I can do that well enough on my own, so I have to limit myself to special occasions so I can enjoy it. I’d like to get back into drinking real coffee, but it makes my stomach hurt, so for now, it’s not worth it to drink every day.
– Much as I wish I appreciated fancy chocolates, I’m over them. Give me a nice bar of Lindt any day (dark, obviously, I’m not a child). Hotel Chocolat do the fancy flavours, but I don’t crave those. Green & Blacks might be organic or whatever, but to me they taste a little to earth-y. No thanks. Give me that man in the advert wearing the oversized chef hat pouring chocolate into those nice trays. Also, I’ve only recently learned how to open the packaging like an envelope, rather than a box of cereal, so I want to keep going there.
– High street health and beauty is my bag. Any time I am in an airport, I will stalk up and down the concession stands in Duty Free and mentally compile a list of the Dior, Chanel, Lancome and Kiehl’s products I absolutely must have. I will eat up every single video from Caroline Hirons listening to her tell me to spend the same money on a serum as I would on a handbag. And yet, I just won’t do it. I’ll happily spend big cash on my mum or girlfriends for this kind of thing, but for me, the high street and the trickle down science from the big pharmaceutical houses is enough. I actually prefer to the new Nivea offerings. Neutrogena and Aveeno in North America get me excited. I have one Chanel lipstick and some fancy skincare I received as gifts or work perks and I feel somewhat intimidated by the cost and glamour of them. I feel wasteful both using them and saving them. I’ve accepted that I am happier and more confident in Boots and Superdrug knowing that Chanel technology is in Bourgeois packaging and if it doesn’t work for me, I won’t be rending my garments in shame.
That being said, if I do spot a pretty palette in the airport for less than the cost of an EasyJet flight, I will be all over that like a toddler on an unattended lipstick.