Vintage Outfit: Androgyny for Cake and Jane Eyre

I often show you outfit photos where I am all gussied up in some kind of extravagant frock with red lips and a sparkly purse about to go out to a party. But this is much more the kind of thing I have been wearing recently, either when I am at home working, or out and about locally on the weekend. 

By androgyny, I really do mean that I am wearing men's clothes. Both the jeans and the shirt used to belong to Mr D, but I claimed them along with a few more of his old shirts in a recent charity shop sort out. In the past I have never  liked wearing shirts as I don't think they suit me, but slim fitting men's shirts seem to be  perfect. Which just goes to show that it is important to think outside the square with your clothes. Now I have lots of lovely shirts and they didn't cost me a penny!

Outfit details: Secondhand Uniqlo jeans and Topman shirt from Mr D, pewter ballet flats from Dorothy Perkins, secondhand black blazer by Cerruti, Oasis baker boy cap, vintage fruit print scarf, my favourite bag ever from The Leather Satchel Co.

Before going to see Jane Eyre at our local cinema, we stopped for cake at Louis Patisserie. I really do think this place does the best cakes in London. You can feel your arteries hardening with every mouthful.

This was my selection from the tray of cakey gloriousness. It contains layers of chocolate sponge, chocolate cream, walnuts, marzipan, and more chocolate. ORGH.

 Mr D went for the 'healthy' fruit option. Under all that is a mountain of sweet cream.

The patisserie was full of groups of old folk meeting up for their weekly gossip. I tried to take a sneaky photo of this group of men because they seemed so happy and involved in their conversation, but it is clear I was rumbled.

As for Jane Eyre... reader, I didn't like it. I didn't think the mystery parts were gripping or exciting, many parts of the story were skipped over so quickly that unless you've read the book they didn't make much sense, and I didn't feel any chemistry between the two leads. I wasn't sure if I was just being picky because I love the book so much, but Mr D felt the same and he has never read it. At the point Jane was sobbing on the moors, at deaths door with a broken heart and not a single friend in the world, I was picking my nails and looking forward to our post-film cider. Coming from a hard-core fan of historical romance, that is a shocking indictment.

The scenery, however, was beautiful, and made me want to live in a little stone cottage in the middle of nowhere, fastening the shutters against the swirling snow, sweeping the floor with a birch broom, and reading books by candlelight. Now THAT, dear reader, is romance.