My memories of papa were stored, neatly stacked but faded, in a little button-box in mother’s bedside drawer. Twice or thrice a year, we’d pour out the contents and lay them flat upon the kitchen table and examine them. The most bleached of my memories occurred even before my birth - when my eldest brother Angus was a baby - but throughout my childhood I clung to those polaroids as though they were an essential part of my being. And I suppose they were. I never met papa but for as long as that little button-box fell under my possession, I could look to the sea that claimed him for her own and feel a glimmer of happiness that was never truly mine. It was mama’s, when her eyes sparkled at the echoes of her first husband’s presence, and it belonged loosely to my brothers, too; Angus, Doug and Ewan all had their own memories that they’d refer to with something like smiles on their faces.
We smiled a lot in the beginning. My brothers - all older than I by years - had the whole of the highland moors upon which to occupy themselves. When I was young, I’d help ma in the kitchen and chatter away to her like a little monkey, she said. I always had so much to say; still do. I speculate that this is why I write books; I know far too many words and yet more ways to use them, and nobody to listen to me any more.
When I grew a little older, old enough to evade ma’s grasp and old enough to keep up with my brothers as they tried to evade me, I spent all of my days outside. We lived on the outskirts of a village and on the fringe of the end of the world, Angus told me once. It certainly looked so; about a mile-and-half from home, two if you ran from the village, were the white cliffs. They gave away to the sea below, swathed in mists and many legends of people falling to their peril, and then the sea-fog obscured all else, and the world gave away to nothing.
It was from the sea-fog that our unhappiness arrived aboard a merchant’s ship; a weather worn, scarred man with hair left wiry and unkept by storms and eyes that saw me differently to how any decent man ought to. His name was John, but we were to call him Uncle; he had money and, apparently, a resolution to care for us in
#backstage at @diliborio #lfw @britishfashioncouncil #ss18 now on @joysmagazine .
Hair by @lovecolorproof
JOYS FASHION BOOK -> printed edition -> is now available worldwide. For more fashion inspiration check out the link in bio. .
💃🙌💜 Click the link in the bio to get your tickets! See clothes from independent and emerging #fashiondesigners // modelled by our superstars // at a beautiful 18th century Manor House // featuring special guest @oliviadbuck and make- up and hair done by the talented @triciadcosta and @jennybucklandmakeup
🔥🔥"LEXUS FASHION WEEK"🔥🔥 В 2017 году LFW проходит в новом загородном комплексе "Hermes", который не имеет аналогов в регионе и станет самой модной площадкой города: длинный подиум длиной 62 метра, самое профессиональное световое и звуковое оборудование, огромные жидкокристаллические экраны, красные ковровые дорожки, множество представителей прессы, шикарные наряды и,конечно же, более 1000 представителей fashion и бизнес-индустрии со всей России.#LFW#lexusfashionweek#неделямоды2017#модель#мода#hermes
Have you got your hands on ASTROLOGY Bomber Jacket yet? We were excited to sell out during #LFW and looking forward to our next pop up with @coterique during @ffwddxb in The Garden! 🌜☄️🌞 Come down and check out the embroidery inspired by the stages of the moon and zodiac!