In the voice note chat the other day, Steph (style icon, friend, and comms master) and I were deep in a conversation about work, careers, and the peculiar ways we communicate in professional settings. We were specifically talking about how it’s such an ingrained habit to soften emails, pad out requests, and type things like, “I just wondered if you’d had a chance to…” or “I’m just checking in about….” That little word, “just,” feels like it softens things. It makes a request or a check-in seem friendly, not “too direct,” not demanding. Not too much. Steph was telling me that she has completely stripped the word ‘just’ from her email vocabulary and is now, well, ‘just’ getting straight to the point. This sent me off on a whole thing, and I realised how much of my email chat, work requests, and freelance replies were filled with fully-friendly ‘justs.’ You could say I’ve taken to linguistically beating around the bush, embellishing asks, responses, and requests to soften and position them. Steph’s voice note stopped me in my tracks and made me question: Why do I do this? Should I do this? Don’t get me wrong, I’m a friendly person. I genuinely like to engage and chat with people in a professional setting in a warm and open way. But do I incessantly need to soften and warm up everything I say? Is it really the best way to communicate? It’s certainly not always the most efficient. Shortly after having this chat, I saw an Instagram reel of Ariana Grande on SNL doing a skit about a ‘People Pleasers Anonymous ’ meeting, you know an AA style thing. In it, she and a fellow people-pleaser were practising simple work requests with ridiculous levels of self-effacing politeness: “If it’s okay with you,” “whatever works best for you,” “I hope it’s not too much to ask,” and on and on. What was most ridiculous about the skit was how much their dialogue read like one of my actual emails. My version would go something like this: “Hi, I hope you are having a lovely week, I just wanted to check in and see if you had had chance to look over the document I sent you last week. If you had the time to review that would be great so I can do any revisions you need in time for the deadlines. No worries if not. Have a great day and thanks again, Georgina.” When, really, all I need to say is: “Hi, Have you reviewed the document I sent last week? I’ll need your feedback by end of play today or we won’t be able to meet the original deadlines. Let me know when you’ve had time to review. Thanks, Georgina.”

I was a hot, sweaty mess. Our washing machine had broken, leaving me with six IKEA bags of dirty washing in search of a DIY launderette. Between finding parking, struggling not to drop £40 worth of coins for the machines, I was not having a chic moment. I don’t know about you, but the last time I was in a laundrette, a cycle definitely wasn’t £8. If you want a real education in inflation that isn’t just buying mince in your weekly shop, go to a launderette and think about Rachel Reeves.

Anyway, the washing was in, and I had twenty minutes to kill. I’d already popped to Sainsbury’s Local for my sad keto lunch (a packet of ham) but I still had time to waste. Leith Walk has a good few charity and vintage shops, but it’s not really a part of town I often venture into. I went into the shop feeling poor after spending all my coins, determined not to buy a single thing.

However, it is a truth universally acknowledged that if you enter a shop with no money and a rigid determination not to buy, the perfect item will present itself.

As I pushed my way through my fellow shoppers, I saw it. A full-length brown coat, that weighed a ton, looked like it was made from a carpet bag and smelled really foisty.

It was perfect.

There’s a persistent rumour circulating amongst my fiancé’s friends that our upcoming wedding is not, in fact, my first. Right from when we started dating, the talk has been that I’ve definitely been engaged and married before. Well, after years of denial, I’m finally coming clean. I have, in fact, been married: in a church, in front of a congregation, and there is photographic evidence. Before the inevitable leaks begin, I thought I’d share the proof myself and get ahead of the story. Crucially, I also want to make sure I take the key learnings from my first experience to make the second ‘wedding of the century’ even better.

I think the fashion world has consistently overlooked a group of genuine style icons. The women who have always known, that the single most important thing, when stepping out of the house is protecting the hair.

The hood on the head of an elderly lady with a fresh perm, is an item that has not only broken into mainstream high-street fashion but has become so integral to my daily life, it’s fast becoming part of my personality.

The hood has sat on my ASOS saved list for a couple of years now. They always looked like a fun accessory, occupying that space somewhere between a scarf and a hat. But they never quite made it out of the saved items folder and into the basket. Perhaps it’s because I’m an incredibly sweaty person, and the idea of my head and neck being covered while walking into work felt like I’d be spending the day a sweaty, flustered mess.

But this autumn, it made the order cut.

As a bottle blonde who spends an inordinate amount of time trying to achieve the largest, gravity-defying volume possible, fresh air, wind, and moisture have always been the enemy.

When it comes to hoods, those little old ladies with their plastic rain caps walked so we could run.