Isabel Marant for H&M.

Gimme gimme. Guillaume Macé isn't bad either.

Ahh Acne.

Now that the bitter winds of the Yorkshire autumn have very much asserted themselves in blustery walks to uni and teeth-chattering outings at night, the yearly lusting over Acne's fall collection of coats and jackets has begun. With shearling so soft you can already imagine your fingers running through it and rich, matte leather with just a suggestion of smooth, satiny sheen - not to mention the perfect oversized, boxy structuring and abundance of asymmetry - I feel like this collection may become the online equivalent of those dogeared favourite pages of well-thumbed paperbacks. Obviously my measly student bank account could never even grasp the concept of one of these winter warmers/eye-indulgers, but a girl can dream, right?

Hate.

I FINALLY watched 'La Haine'. I think you can assign judgement to a film by how long you stare incredulously at the silently rolling credits before realising it's time to stop the dvd. In this case it would be up at the 'superb' end of the scale; I even got to the bit where you can see the track list before I remembered to close my long-dropped jaw. I guess you could call it a kind of urban documentary, and although it has such a simple premise - following three friends from a neglected outer district of Paris during one day in real time - it is unbelievably effective in its portrayal of the permanent undercurrent of volatility which is palpable right until the jarring yet extremely effective finish. All three actors are brilliant - Said Taghmaoui, Hubert Kounde and of course the fabulous Vincent Cassel: 'Vinz', with his shaved head and lopsided swagger, is a slightly aggressive character (read: explosive) and is by far the standout performance, representing the conflicted persona of this frustrated generation. To add to that, the soundtrack is a treat for the ears, see Bob Marley's apt 'Burnin' and Lootin'' and Isaac Hayes' 'That Loving Feeling' (super sexy). If you want a film that combines beautiful black and white photography with gritty acting and dark humour, a strange incident with a cow and a spectacular bit of freestyle mixing of 'Sound of Da Police' with Edith Piaf, then 'La Haine' is perfect.

Abstractions/Intuition.

After working my fingers to the bone all summer (to the point that it felt like coffee had seeped through my tattered fingertips to become ingrained within the very fibres of my being), I have now entered the last stretch of the academic existence that has basically informed the structure of my life since I learnt to sing the alphabet at nursery. This is both one of the most exciting and the most terrifying thoughts that I have encountered up to now. Although at times I feel like curling into the foetal position and staring at the wall in moments of total panic at my lack of 'A Plan', I keep reminding myself to take a moment to bask in the fact that I can't even fathom the extent of possibilities that are stretching before me. Pretty crazy. So, final year: here we go.

Mañana.

Ed Ruscha: On The Road

Beverly Ealdama.

Clean.

As highly impractical as it is, especially with my apparent embarrassing incapability of keeping my clothes pasta sauce-free, I can't help but lust after the endless clean and crisp whiteness of everything filling the magazines and blogs at the moment. Although, with the milky-pale complexion of my Scottish ancestors I don't think I'll be rocking the head-to-toe look any time soon; with the strange reflective qualities of my skin kind of making me glow in the sunlight I already look like something out of Twilight. Just as well, I don't think I'd be able to give up spaghetti bolognese. 

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Leather ting.

Be it just detail or an oversized jacket, buttery-soft and beautifully matte black leather is everywhere and perfect right now for layering in these completely ridiculous temperatures. 

Spring, where art thou??

pics from: theyallhateus/weworewhat/stylesnooperdan

Canadian tuxedo.

Slight denim shirt obsession.

Pics from: theyallhateus/camilleovertherainbow/tumblr

I'm alive.

I have finally surfaced from a crippling week-long flu/virus thing, one of those that takes hold of your entire body and refuses any voluntary movement beyond the depths of your duvet and makes you feel like you're never going to be happy or healthy ever again. The sun is shining, it's Friday, and although I've still got a cough that makes it feel like my lungs are trying to explode through my chest, I can walk around without feeling like I'm about to faint and crash to the floor like a falling tree. Also, now my brain is free of thoughts like 'I'm dying' and 'I need to shower but I'm scared I will faint and die' etc. etc., I can appreciate how lucky I have been these past few weeks. My birthday on Valentine's Day a week ago made me realise what amazing, super, wonderful, beautiful, caring, gorgeous friends I have. Not that I didn't know that already, but it's always going to be a lovely surprise when I get a parcel sent from France, or a Love Actually standing-at-the-door-for-Kiera-style video sent from Leeds, and presents that define me down to a T from my girls here in Spain. And I haven't even started to mention my amazing family. I love you Mama and Papa T.

Milano.

Some photos from my recent amazing weekend in Milan. 

Quite overwhelmed by the beauty of Il Duomo creeping through the fog, the deluge of pristine bags left right and centre that I have been lusting over for what feels like forever and the amount of unbelievably good food and coffee devoured over five days left me reeling in delight at this eclectic, exciting city. For an unforgettable night, a visit to the infamous Plastic is an experience quite like no other.

Instagram: _annatrotter

Feeling like a.

There are certain songs that evoke memories of the kind that you know will stay with you forever.

Ksubi A/W '13.

Leather/structured/denim/baroque/love.

Rineke Dijkstra.

Beach portraits 1992-94

I don't think many photographers better capture the awkwardness and anxiety of youth than Dijkstra. I am always completely transfixed by how vulnerable and exposed her subjects appear; how beautifully human each simple yet revealing portrait is.

More.

I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. - E. E. Cummings

Mm

After a day-long internal battle between my emotional craving for the embrace of a juicy Big Mac and my body's whimpering physical protests refusing any movement further than the few steps to the kitchen, I have remained tightly wrapped in my duvet like a human burrito for longer than is probably recommended. Alas, I will be going to sleep burgerless. Scrolling through excessive amounts of food porn has not helped the situation in the slightest (note to self: must buy Nutella). I think it is safe to say, following last night's return to questionable music accompanied by questionable dancing, that the Erasmus students have returned.

Hogar, dulce hogar

And so my wonderful flat in the little city of Alcalá de Henares has been ceremoniously reunited (plus honorary extras), starting the second semester with a hugely rock and roll late-night game of German Monopoly accompanied by tinto de verano y cerveza - por supuesto. A few near-bankrupcies, several impressive comebacks and vast exchanges of old school Deutsche Mark later, we crept to bed (after begrudgingly taking the requested photographic evidence of Team Italy smoking victory cigarettes and holding tens of thousands of fake bills), content in our return to what has become a little European family.

Throw yourself

The only way that we can live, is if we grow. The only way that we can grow is if we change. The only way that we can change is if we learn. The only way we can learn is if we are exposed. And the only way that we can become exposed is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself. - C. Joybell C.