of the guilty kind. From staying up too late drinking. Then too late working because of staying up too late drinking. I know, poor little me.
Summer terms at University comprise of three weeks of poorly attended, half-hearted lectures, insanely repetitive conversations about dissertations/deadlines/stress/ and a simultaneous attempt to squish in as much student fundom before the maturity of graduation arrives. As a result, I'm averaging six hours of sleep a night and suffering. To go from the luxurious slumber and overeating of Shire existence to rolling in and out of bed , surviving on lunches of pick n' mix and greggs sausage rolls and dinners of pitta bread and gin, is a rough slide.
Furthermore, Newcastle is beautifully sunny but deceptively cold. I've been powercycling around just to keep warm after foolishly leaving the house without a coat.
As a result, this little nugget of niche fashion goodness on Vice Style caught my eye. The only similarity being that of the headline theme. However, sleeplessness has clearly been a good thing for Ruth Hogben - give it a couple of months of this fatigue-induced stupor and I'll be taking over the world.