Seeing as I now have hair like a boy and have to move to the countryside I really need to be working on my cool rating. It's dipping as low as James Gandolfini's heart rate. Is that a current joke? How should I know. I never even managed to watch the Sopranos. It was past my bed time.
In a lucky attempt to get on the Summer cool bandwagon I stumbled on some Aperol in Louis' kitchen. Wasn't sure I liked it that much but then a party a few days later convinced me otherwise. "Oh have you tried Aperol Spritz?" "Yeah, I drank them all last summer at Franks. That's when they hit London." "Yeah all I do is sit in the garden downing Spritzes with my new artist boyfriend."
Ohho ho. Louis was right. Back I scampered to down a whole bottle. On trend drunk me!
Seeing as I don't do things by halves I decided to accessorise a few pints of Aperol Spritz with an orange plate of food and my favourite neon jumper.
You'll be very sad to know that not but a day later I was delivered this cruel blow in Grazia.
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