I’m a freelance writer, living in Hackney surrounded by hundreds of books and what I like to term “future antiques”. I spend a lot of time daydreaming:- that I am Nancy Mitford living in Paris; that a music hall career on the London stage is still possible; that Mr Rochester, Sebastian Flyte and Steve Malkmus are meeting partially clothed in the British Library for a firelit wrestling bout, of which I am the only spectator, and ultimately, prize.
What I Do, Job-wise: Freelance arts and fashion journalist for some papers and whatnot. I’m also writing a novel, mostly in the library. It’s about glamorous aristocrats in the jazz age – also, murder. And base depravity.
What I Do, Fun-wise: Hoover up novels, haunt the cinema, marvel over the latest fashions, attend musical concerts, lindyhop, gurgle cava, poke around museums/ancient edifices. My Motto: ‘You can never be overdressed or overeducated!'
My Anti-Motto: Is there one about baking or crafting being fun? That. The First Movie
Star I Ever Had A Crush On: Jeremy Irons. Posh.
My “celebs to make out with” list: Jean Dujardin, Morrissey, Louise Brooks
The Most Played Song On My iTunes: I thought it would be The Smiths or something extremely cool but it’s ‘In Your Room’ by The Bangles. It must be because I always work out to it while headbanging and pretending I am Susannah Hoff.
Last Book I Read Without Skimming Any Parts: I thundered through Rules of Civility by Amor Towles. But I’m not afraid to put a bad book down.
My Most Worn Item of Clothing: A blue polka-dot vintage jumpsuit. I love a good jumpsuit. It has shoulderpads.
Beauty Products That I Hoard: Bright red lipstick, anything made of geranium and Batiste dry shampoo because it makes your hair massive.
I smell like: Diptyque Philosykos, bookdust and chocolate
I Have Faked An Orgasm (Yes/No): Never, she said brisklly.