I have this really scary chair. It has been creepily stalking me ever since my childhood. From city to city and one country to another. It’s always there, shapeshifting (yup, I think it’s been watching True Blood over my shoulder) and lurking in the background. This is what it currently looks like:
Good thing about it is, turning it over is a bit like digging for a treasure. You never know what you’re going to find. Yesterday I dug out two pairs of chequered trouser that I’d forgotten all about. Turns out they’re perfect for autumn walks (paired with a Burberry trench and Mulberry bag for that conservative British look) :
My mum actually bought these Betty Barclay wool trousers for me in a second-hand shop in Hjørring. Just like the poncho she found they’re spot on (it’s normally hit or miss when she buys things for me).