A and I are lucky enough to have birthdays but one day apart so this is a big week for us. I had very few wishes for my birthday this year and I got all of them: a lovely party with my friends, an Iitala wibbly glass vase and flowers to put in it and a couple of hilarious-sounding books:
This has turned out to be a gem. Written in 1936, Marjorie Hills takes a stern look at the lives of women of all ages who find themselves living alone (it seems to have been relatively easy to find a studio flat in 1930s New York, lucky ladies). She has no truck with feeling sorry for yourself and sets a lot of store by bedjackets. As I type, a maid is bringing me my nightcap while I recline in a quilted bedjacket. Where can I get one or, indeed, an affordable maid?
I did follow Marjorie’s instructions to some extent this weekend by being taken off for a pedicure at the London Bliss Spa on Sloane Avenue. I went with a new colour, “Not Just a Pretty Face” and sadly it makes me look a bit dead, but it’s satisfying that at least one bit of me is being well taken-care-of. Tomorrow I am off for the best meal of the day, brunch, which calls for taking care of the whole package in case I sit next to a celebrity, which happened once at my local place (it was a Strictly dancer, so I didn’t throw myself across the table at him or anything. Fingers crossed for Keira Knightley or Adele or something next time).
My two imperceptibly different nail colours. I think the second one is my usual colour, BBF Best Boy Friend. Next time I go I will be ringing the changes and getting Movers and Shakers. You will be able to pick this one out of the lineup below I imagine.
Happy birthday us.