Thursday, 28 October 2010


As I write, it's just half an hour until my leaving party from Glamour magazine (chi chi bar! free drinks!). Yes. I'm going. And I'm still in denial (even my Prada-inspired party outfit of a nipped-in print dress, knee-high socks, patent shoes and film noir red lips isn't easing the blow). You see, even though my new job is a great career move (I'm off to be the Assistant Editor and Fashion Director - whoop! - of the Mail's Weekend supplement), I am going to miss my friends and the fabulousness of Glamour so much.
I will miss the outfit scrutinising and admiring. I will miss spending hours debating the saturated fat content of Pret A Manger sandwiches together. I will miss the razzle dazzle of our Women of the Year awards, mingling with the A-list and primping and preening as if we're the stars.

I'll miss my triumvirate of desk buddies - blonde, gloriously evil and hilarious.

No longer will I smugly be able to use the Glamour name to get me inside the hottest parties, onto guest lists, into the sample sales. No longer will I feel a swell of pride whilst sitting beside a girl on the train, who's reading a feature I've written (which happened just last night). New adventures lie ahead - putting my stamp on a new product, dipping my toe into the world of hacks and suits - real journalism, the school of hard knocks - the place from which anything is possible. It's scary, but I have never been the kind of girl to turn down a challenge.

And hopefully, although I'm saying goodbye to Glamour, I'll always be


  1. Fear not I'm sure you'll always be giving us a bit of glamour! I love the Mails weekend supplements - best of luck,

    Victoria xx

  2. Farewell, but never Goodbye. Glamour's loss will be our gain as we get to read your words of style wisdom every weekend over our French toast! xxx