My name’s Daisy and I’m a 24 year-old fluff and feather fanatic, with a deep appreciation for words and a fervent interest in your wardrobe.
I fancy myself as a writer and a sub-par street poser, although there’s no denying I’ve definitely mastered the classic ‘fuck me, this floor is magical’ blogger stance (of which you can find examples in the ‘fashion’ section).
Seriously embarrassing sexcapades, diarrhetic divulgences and feminist furores; if you enjoy over-sharing, you’re in for a treat. If I had any dollar whatsoever, I’d be an Alaïa-coholic, but I don’t… so I’m not. What I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long shopping career. So here’s a warning to seemingly unattainable clothes everywhere: I will look for you, I will find you, and I will buy you. (For half the price, if poss.)
Pie and Mash
a traditional London working-class food, originating in East London but also, thankfully, prevalent in Essex. Pie & Mash (note the capitals) is potentially (read: undoubtedly) the greatest thing your tastebuds will ever have the pleasure of receiving, and your gut the pleasure of digesting.
Silly. Serious. Often replaced with the word ‘sartorial’ (guilty). Something we all lose our shit over.
Put ’em both together and what do you get? Yup.
Welcome to Pie & Fash. My door is always open. (cheeky)