October falls somewhere between extreme exhaustion and absolute motivation. Whilst at work  I’ve felt suffocated, creatively I’ve felt more inspired to do things than in a long time. I’ve come home from long days, slathered on face mask and delved into inspiration hunts through old fashion editorials that have been clogging up my bed side table.


Like every October, this is the month where I forget all the gig tickets I’ve purchased and they somehow cumulate within a 2 week period. The Strypes, Squeeze, Young Frankenstein, Alex G and how could I forget, Busted.

I’m not kidding when I say that the Busted gig lived out my 7-year-old dreams. For years I collected the annuals, albums and forced my parents to listen to them endlessly on holiday drives to campsites in France. At one point I dialed up the modem and signed up to their fan club which subjected my Dad’s email to hoards of boy band spam.

When they spilt, I distinctly remember taking down the posters from my pale pink bedroom walls, melodramatically thinking ‘this is it’.

Fast forward 13 years to my 22nd birthday. My cousin Soph, Devs and I had control over the playist, thumbling between Haim and Solange, our eyes lock when the opening riff of Air Hostess pelted out of the speakers. Soph immediately googled, ‘We’re going!’ and within an instant we’d booked tickets for Busted at the Royal Albert Hall.


Since going, I’ve really romantised the night in my head. Maybe it was the floods of nostaligia, unexpectedly knowing every word to songs I’d thought I’d forgotten. Bouncing, actaully bouncing, around with 2 girls who love them as much as me.


All these gigs take me back to dreams of being in a band, strumming clusmy chords on the frets and singing very loudly even with my headphones on.

Maybe all is not lost, but for now that seems like another world. I’ll stick to singing in the shower for now.

This month’s playlist : O C T O B E R 


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