The Rough Patch
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The Treat Yo’ Self Gift Guide
Chloe is a 25 year old writer currently living in Suffolk. She doesn’t own any pets (although she has ambitions for that to change), she’s likely to overshare, and she doesn’t quite understand why so many personal introductions are written in the third person.
Weird isn’t it, because you know I’m the one writing this…? Anyway, formalities over, here’s my deal:
I think a lot of mission statements fall short because they overpromise. I could say that I want to create a meaningful space within which the frivolity of fashion and the more serious aspects of our personal lives can co-exist; in some sense that is true, but really, at the very core of it, I just want to write things that other people like me find entertaining. If I can make you laugh whilst you’re hiding from your boss in the toilets at work, then I’m happy. If I can make you rethink your relationship with your sexuality and how best to enjoy and embolden your own pleasure, then I’m happy. If I can share the best jeans for petite bodies and you find a pair you fall in love with, then I’m happy. Think of me as your internet wine friend: we can talk about La Redoute rugs and labias all in the space of 5 minutes, and then accidentally throw up on our shoes when we realise three bottles shared was probably too far.
You’ll find a little bit of everything here, from fashion lookbooks and introspective think-pieces, to commentaries on hair and interiors and the punctuated postcards of travel. I love music, too, so make sure you check out my Spotify playlists for Bougie Queen Chill (I have it on good authority that this makes ~ excellent ~ office listening).
If you feel like you’re dragging yourself through early adulthood with a mixture of joy and confusion, then this space is for you. We only have one rule: you must bring your own wine glass.
![Going through the motions, going with the flow, feeling fucking funky; whatever you want to call it, existing instead of living is a legitimate conflict. And it’s something I have to remind myself out of when I’m caught up in the process of Monday - Friday and no I don’t really want to go out at the weekend because I’m too tired but oh shit, there’s Monday again and there’s Friday again and, hang on, what have I done for the past two months which I’ll look back on with fondness?
I’m guilty of diagnosing myself with tiredness or apathy weeks in advance. In fact, I have to actively list out my month on paper and designate weekday evenings for dinners or pub trips or my 90000th walk around the park, just to make sure I’m actually doing something other than staring at a laptop until the clock dictates I stop. It’s so easy to get caught up in the routine of things, the banal but comfortable, and to forget that life exists outside of the daily grind. That those pockets are where the joy can be found (if I’m not too ‘tired’ to dig in and find it).
Sometimes it’s as simple as calling my Nan or walking to Starbucks with a neighbour, and sometimes what my soul craves is a fancy date night or messy, booze-fuelled weekend with the girls. Sometimes I ~ am ~ actually tired and sometimes I’m just being lazy. But planning in advance to have something to look forward to - some sphere of life outside of work and home - well, that reminds me to keep living. Or at the very least it reminds me that I can be more interesting than: “Hi [x], hope you’re doing well and had a great weekend!” 🌚](http://thelittleplum.co.uk/wp-content/plugins/instagram-feed/img/placeholder.png)