I used to be a slave to Temptation Alley and a cool stall on Portobello with all its lacey trimmings and bits and bobs and after schlepping up to London to keep my floral antique groove on was so chuffed when I realised Andrew of Wayward had his mecca in Hastings, I dashed, I ran, I sped. A den of all things glorious and red lippy and beehived stripey top lovers a go go.
Filed under: Gypsy Rose Writes
