I bought a fur hat, everyone be cool.

You know when you go shopping by yourself and somehow end up sucked into a delusion-vortex where you are completely cool and can pull off anything you've ever wanted to wear in your wildest dreams? Typically, I call this Euro-shopping, where you go out to a store in Italy or something, and everyone else is wearing camouflage jeans with "Sexy and Military" written on them in rhinestones, so you think your shirt with the see-through sections over the shoulders is cheeky and fun, instead of super weird and embarrassing. Or you go to France and decide that since the gamines can do it, dammit you are getting one of those gray tunic-y sack things and rocking the HELL out of it, instead of looking like a B-list celebrity trying to start pregnancy rumours. The good thing about Euro-shopping is that it only happens in Europe. (In the twitter version of this post, the hashtag is #ohshitiliveherenow.)

I went to a vintage market in Brick Lane the other weekend, and had been looking for something fur, as well as something leopard. Drunk on my obsession with the '60s and that weird mildew smell that is ubiquitous wherever second hand clothing is sold/your great aunt's basement/Miss Havisham's house, I found EXACTLY what I was looking for.

Then I took it home:

Help, you guys. I can't pull this off and now I own a leopard-print fur hat.

PS If you've noticed that I've been incredibly prolific in my blogging this week, it's because a) I am courting my solo reader from Peru who has returned TWICE NOW (hola, bienvenudos) and b) I have a paper due on Tuesday.