why can't i be you.

Words cannot describe the chronic three-day headache that goes hand in hand with an ambitious three-day juice cleanse. It hit me like an atom bomb, somewhere between the first hour and the second “green juice” which I’m revolted to admit consisted of silverbeet, cucumber, parsley, spinach and celery. Being one of my first metaphysical experiences, I watched in horror as the sheer throbbing of my skull caused my mood to shatter, spilling emotional debris all over my living room. As the saying goes: all juice, no carbs, makes us all frenzied lunatics.

Although “detox” seems to be the term du jour, people in my circles tend rather to turn up their noses once the conversation shifts in this direction and proceed to light another cigarette, wine at the ready. If for nothing more than an agonizing experiment, I have convinced myself that this hellish ordeal has restored my moral fibre by means of liquefaction. It was either that, or finding an alternative way to justify a third of my weekly wage on a juice-induced migraine.

Speaking of virtuosity, it’s no secret that my love and reverence for the divine STELLA McCARTNEY will almost certainly persist until I’m six feet under, provided I never embark on another liquid cleanse. The remarkable mother of four launched her first collection in 2001, after a brief stint at Chloe, having graduating from Central St. Martins several years earlier. It never ceases to amaze me that after all this time she has still maintained her ethical perspective and a sense of relaxed femininity that is so quintessentially hers.

So naturally, upon admiring her SPRING 2011 collection, I was thrilled to stumble across several minimalistic 1960’s cut pieces with eccentric fruit prints just in time for my internal baptism to come to a very welcome end. If only I could have brought myself to put these through a juice extractor, the whole experience would have been much more enticing. 

(thanks style.com for the delicious images)