Apologies in advance for what's about to be a pretty uninspired blog post. According to the Sydney Morning Herald, it's 0.5 degrees off 40. That's bushfire hot. Exploding cat hot. Laptop overheating hot. And I've got a laptop on my lap. It should console me that if I overheat/melt/die at least I'll go with the thing I love most (sorry Bobby) but it doesn't. Don't be surprised if the next "What I Wore" post is of a dress in a puddle. Written from an internet cafe. So, because some things don't need explaining - even though, being me, I often explain them anyway, by way of an epic blog post/incomprehensible story - and in the interest of *not* melting, I'll try to keep it short - Lily Allen is Lily Allen; I'm going to take a massive leap of faith here and presume that you know who she is and, possibly more than once, you've caught a glimpse of one of her live shows. No? Let me sum it up for you: Flashing lights, rude words (oh my!), booty shaking, intelligently wry lyrics and a generous amount of leopard print. For even more details, you can keep an eye on Bobby's blog, as he was reviewing. Indeed, we saw her the night before last at the Hordern Pavillion and, though I can't say I was - or had the time to get - overly excited, it was actually really quite fun. And I kind of fell in love with the above stockings. Which is ridiculous, considering the heat, but the more I look at them, the more I decide I can't live without them. If anyone knows where I can get my hands on a pair/wants to make them for me, I'd be eternally grateful. I promise I won't even think about wearing them 'till Autumn.