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Given the nature of my job, my longstanding relationship with various London PR agencies and my inability to turn down a free bar (with or without canapes), I often attend events like the Disaronno and Roberto Cavalli shindig I attended last night. Those of you who are cool sweet enough to keep up with this blog will know that after champagne, whiskey is my poison of choice. However, back in my uni days, Disaronno in all its forms was by far my signature tipple. In fact, I drank amaretto sour, sweet, on the rocks, straight, with coke, with cranberry juice and just about every other way you could possibly imagine that I rarely drink it anymore. You know when you literally rinse something to excess that your love turns to hate in a blink of an eye? Basically THAT feeling x100. There was even a time when I would have flashbacks of kitten heels (yes I used to wear them before I mastered the art of walking in a stiletto), messy 4am kebabs, and lethal apple sours, whenever I would get so much as a whiff of Disaronno. Fast forward 7 plus years, my senses, though considerably desensitised, get the rare opportunity to go back in time and relive my youth. Okay, so the scene is a little different from Croydon’s Loop bar all those years ago. We now sip bespoke disaronno cocktails on Sloane street dah-ling. Amongst the finest couture if you please. Funny how life changes…

I digress. The event was awesome (and I base said awesome-ness on how delicious the canapes are, how free flowing the cocktails tend to be, and of course if goody bags are available). I left early due to being ridiculously underdressed for the event (hence why this is not an outfit post) and the extensive MIC guestlist (unless you are of the epic and untouchable Caggie/ Hugo/ Millie era I rebuke you). I left fed, considerably watered, and with a wishlist as long as my 32 inch inside leg.

Here’s hoping for those thigh high, snaked heeled beauties alongside a limited edition bottle of Diasronno for Christmas…


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