Spring Fever, Cinema Glam & Clapham Mayhem: A Soft Launch Into Chaos and Culture

Coming back from Courchevel was always going to be a comedown, but babe—this one was steep. One minute I’m sipping vin chaud on a snowy slope, the next I’m battling my way through the Jubilee line while someone coughs unapologetically into their scarf. Honestly, if that’s not character development, I don’t know what is. There’s something about going from Alpine luxury to Zone 2 chaos that humbles you real quick. I felt like a snow princess shoved into a Pret queue.

But the antidote to the post-ski slump? Culture. Glorious, bougie, London-in-late-winter culture. I kicked off with a night at the BAFTA Film Awards at the Southbank Centre. It was everything—gowns, gossip, gold statues. I wasn’t walking the red carpet (yet), but I wore a vintage navy number that made me feel like I could’ve been. The energy was so glam, and I left the venue with a renewed sense of how powerful storytelling can be. Also: spotted someone off telly and pretended not to care. Failed. I tripped on my own hem while trying to look unbothered.

Feeling inspired (and mildly superior), I made it my mission to lean into my annual ‘cultured girlie’ phase. First stop: my pilgrimage to the V&A. It’s tradition now—I do it once a year, lose three hours in the fashion wing, and leave with wild delusions about starting my own luxury label. I practically whispered “couture” to myself while looking at 19th-century corsets.

Next came the Natural History Museum, because dinosaurs, obviously. You simply can’t look at a T-Rex and not feel small in the best way. And then a spontaneous, sunshine-drenched stroll through Kew Gardens with Maisie. Everything smelled faintly of spring and freshly churned optimism. We giggled over magnolias, drank overpriced oat lattes, and played the game of “if I were a flower, what would I be?” Spoiler: Maisie’s a wild poppy. I’m a peony, obviously. Drama but soft.

Then, because no post-ski chapter is complete without a little chaos, I said yes to a date with a much younger guy. Australian. 26. Tall. Surfy. Absolutely not husband material—but lord, was it a fun night out. We danced through Clapham like we owned the place, ended up on someone’s questionably sticky sofa in a share house with five other lads, and by morning I had one shoe, zero sleep, and a very clear sense that this was not my future. Fun? Yes. Filthy? Also yes. But ultimately… hard no. I’m 37, not delusional. He called me “chill,” which might be the biggest lie I’ve ever told through body language.

Work, meanwhile, is humming. Clients are committing, my schedule is stacked, and I’ve never felt more creatively aligned. My online coaching programme has just rolled into its next phase, and I’ve had three separate DMs this week from women telling me they hit PBs because of my plans. That’s the kind of inbox glow-up I live for. It makes every early morning and late-night programming session so worth it.

I’ve also been carving out space for bigger-picture thinking—what I want this year to look like, what kind of leader I want to be, and how to balance softness with ambition. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk, but one I’m determined to make in heels.

Also: I can feel the wanderlust bubbling again. My Google Maps has about six pins burning a hole through it—Bali, Buenos Aires, Oaxaca… Asia? South America? Maybe both? I’ve even been researching long-stay Airbnbs like it’s my part-time job. There’s something in the air right now and it smells like passport stamps and long-haul flights. Stay tuned, because spontaneous bookings might be back on the cards.

Mindset: Curiosity as a Compass

I’m giving myself permission this month to chase curiosity—not conclusions. I don’t need a five-year plan. I need wonder, spontaneity, and enough courage to walk into places where I don’t know the language (literally and metaphorically). I’m also sitting with the idea that every adventure doesn’t need to lead somewhere concrete—it’s enough that it moved me.

I’ve been keeping a journal again—short, scribbled, messy—and it’s been doing wonders. It’s less about “dear diary” and more about releasing brain clutter. Trying to observe without judging, to enjoy without overanalysing.

Style: Transitional Chic is Having a Moment

Currently loving longline trenches, tonal layers, and anything that makes me feel like a spy in a French thriller. I’ve swapped ski suits for oversized tailoring and kept the drama alive with knee boots and slick ponytails. Bonus points if I look like I’m on my way to ruin a man’s life and deliver a TED Talk.

Also: silk scarves are creeping back into the rotation. I wore one tied low on my neck the other day and got two compliments and a wink. Coincidence? I think not.

Beauty & Wellness: Skin First, Champagne Later

After the Alpine dryness, I’m deep into barrier repair. Ceramides, peptides, and slugging before bed. My skin is finally forgiving me. Also: lymphatic drainage facials are back in the rotation. I’ve been religious with my magnesium, stretching, and sleep hygiene. And I’ve swapped my usual cardio fix for more pilates and breathwork. Turns out, rest is the new rebellion.

I’ve also reintroduced dry body brushing into my morning routine and—controversial—I’m back on chlorophyll drops. My insides might be placebo-powered but honestly? Glowing. It’s giving “internally radiant,” and I’ll take it.

Pop Culture & Trends

• Everyone’s baking olive oil cakes and I’m intrigued

• Architectural nails are everywhere—sharp angles, chrome finishes, total drama

• Date nights are out, culture dates are in (the museum flirt is real)

• Romanticism is trending—ribbons, frills, novels that make you weep

• Apparently we’re all planning “delulu girl” summers and honestly? Sign me up

• Emerald green is having a moment and my wardrobe is listening

• Beyoncé’s cowboy era? Unexpected. Iconic. Yeehaw, queen.

  
  

The Month Ahead: Leaning Into Lightness

March is knocking and she’s bringing longer days, lighter coats, and a sweet sense that something’s coming. I don’t know exactly what—but I’m walking into it with arms open, lashes curled, and SPF firmly applied. There might be travel. There will definitely be dancing. And if a younger man asks me out again? Well… we’ll see.

I’m planning an intentional spring reset—fresh sheets, new candles, an inbox clear-out, and maybe a digital detox weekend. Nothing too dramatic, but just enough to give March the clean slate energy she deserves.

Sophie x