… An Alex Monroe Bumblebee Necklace
London is brimming with fashion clichés, whether it is a sloaney pony catwalking the Kings Road in her Zara staple, or an edgy kid trudging the streets of Dalston in their Vans stripe trainers. For this post Alex Monroe’s Bumblebee, a common sight in London’s Parsons Green, shares a typical day with us…
“URGH – dragged out of the Smythson jewellery box again this morning at some ungodly hour. It’s so dark and cluttered in there…I can’t believe she stuffs me in there every night with those tacky bits from Accessorize and Topshop. Puts me on just after she’s had a shower – what an idiot…I will start to lose my shine if she continues to do that – I REALLY don’t like water.
Brilliant, she’s decided to go with the black polo neck again, she really has no style – I definitely go best with a blue or a green. Late for the tube, classic. Every morning she gets up and procrastinates for about half an hour about how to do her hair – it literally looks the same every day. When will she realise that?
At the desk just in time, god Barbara looks hideous today – what was she doing last night? I’ve noticed she has a knock off version of me on – wonder where on earth she got it?
Meetings, meetings, meetings.
Another boring trip to Pret for lunch. Ohh, treated herself to a Choc Bar did she? Someone’s going to have to hit the gym later …
Admin, admin, admin.
When will this day ever end?
Finally she’s escaped. Back on the tube – ewww. Why is everyone here wearing Zara?
Ah going for a quick drink with Quentin after work are we? He complemented me – I like him!
A glass of Rose? Honestly she couldn’t get more basic if she tried. I’m really getting bored of The Orange Pub, she really needs to get more original in her date spot choices.
I noticed about 5 other Bumblebees draped around Sloaney necks at the pub. God – when did I become so generic?
Quick snog with Quentin at the tube – he was wearing a Schoffel gilet, it was quite cosy to snuggle up to.
Back home – it took her about three goes to get the key in the door. If this wasn’t Kensington she would have 100% been mugged by now. What a piss head.
No food in the fridge – so she eats about half a loaf of bread with butter and marmite – she really needs to get her shit together.
Oh no! Clarissa is home and crying about something boring. Thankfully we slip past her unnoticed and get into our room before she stops us for a DMC. THANK GOD.
Now she falls asleep watching ‘Gossip Girl’ – with me and the light on. Good times…
Well, at least it’s better than that bloody box.