Autumn’s well and truly into its innings. Although, apart from the trees starting to turn, you wouldn’t know it… we’ve been treated to beaming sunshine and temperatures that keep our patio in business. But – and I don’t want to sound ungrateful – who’s secretly hoping it turns a bit chillier soon so we can dig out coats, boots and scarves? So, to celebrate the official cosy season, the return of decent telly and new collections in stores, here’s a round-up of everything I’m currently coveting…
 

 
Houndstooth chair // Oliver Bonas is really having an interiors moment. Seriously, they’re on fire when it comes to soft furnishings. This particular little number, called Le Cocktail Chair (mais, oui), would look so chic on a herringbone floor in a Parisian apartment in the Marais. Or, y’know, in a regular house.
 
Adventures pocket notebooks // BerinMade designed our wedding invitations (and my blog header!), so I love seeing Erin’s business go from strength to strength. If you’re a stationery fiend like me then I’d urge you to head over to her website for cards, notebooks and prints that nail every trend. I especially love the colours in these notebooks. They had me at navy.
 
Breton pompom blanket // Yonder Living is one of my favourite new online finds and I’ve been drooling over their blankets for months. Maybe now the mercury’s dropping, I’ll treat myself to this stripy pompom beauty. Call it an early Christmas present.
 
Cities sweatshirt // I honestly think Brits are happiest safely back inside a jumper. Well, I am anyway. And this one is definitely ticking all the boxes for me.
 
After You // I’m assuming you’ve read the first one, right? If not, please do so immediately, if not sooner. The sequel is sure to be just as heartbreakingly beautiful.
 
Drinks trolley // Gold, marble, metal. Oliver Bonas has come over all West Elm on us, and we ain’t complaining.
 
Origins serum // When winter hits, bitter winds and cranked-up heating does nothing for that glowy complexion we all try to maintain year round. Thankfully, the lovely people at Origins have created this new cult serum to stick two fingers up to dreary dry skin.
 
Horse print // As much as I’m a fan of abstract art, sometimes the crispness of black and white photography wins out. I adore this shot. I’ll always be a pony-mad teenager at heart.
 
Tell me, does anything here strike your fancy?
 

Louise Roe – stylist, presenter and author extraordinaire – has worked hard for her career. She’s put in the hours, there’s been no “but I had no idea it was being released” scandal, and she always comes across as incredibly down-to-earth and just plain lovely. Total PLU territory. Since she also has impeccable dress sense (aside from a weird Oscars choice back in 2012), I had high hopes for her latest LA pad that she opened up to The Everygirl. And I wasn’t disappointed. It’s as tasteful as her Cali-girl-meets-ladylike-chic wardrobe, with a slew of neutral tones peppered with west coast pops of colour. Shall we take a peek?
 

{Big fan of the contrasting seat and back cushions on the sofa}
 

{Gallery walls – much like SEO and chivalry – aren’t dead. Especially when they feature Slim Aarons’ photography}
 

{Tufted headboard, abstract art and antique furniture. A combo that’ll rarely fail}
 

{Personally I’d swap out that rug for a jute or a Persian, but I love the see-through IKEA chairs – yep, IKEA!}
 

{Mirrored picture frames, and more blue and white loveliness}
 

{Pineapple, marble and hydrangeas – this lady knows her interior trends}
 
:photography by Monica Wang:
 
Want to get the laid-back Los Angeles look? Here’s how…
 

 
{Alexandra Nazari photography / pineapple jewellery box / Tobias chair / Chinese barrel seat / London map / Vogue book / lattice cushion / ethnic side table / Emily Jeffords art}
 

Spent some time with these two.
When the Ant to your Dec lives an 11-hour plane ride away, it sucks. A lot. But on the flip side, you get to casually drop into conversations that, “Yeah, my best friend lives in LA. No big deal.” then casually swan off to see her, while reminding people that your best friend lives in LA. Because it is a big deal. Vicki worked ridiculously hard to get there and she works ridiculously hard now she’s there, and has über-important meetings with big-wigs at Fox and Universal and Paramount, and sometimes I’m so proud of what she’s achieved, I could burst. I also got to hang out with my 2yo goddaughter, who is quite simply the coolest. She’s a one-woman stand-up show, and is going to grow up to become Amy Poehler. I also loved that she kept forgetting my name (‘Auntie El’) and instead opted for ‘Teacher’.
 

 
Checked out Venice.
I’d been to LA once before but hadn’t got as far as Venice, so that needed to be put right, stat. We walked the length of Abbot Kinney (which, to style bloggers, is retail cat-nip), meandering in and out of shops, and chattering away nineteen to the dozen. We strolled through the canals, drooled over the gorgeous cottages and wondered out loud how these people got so rich. Turns out a lot of the places on the canals are passed down through generations, so it’s not so much making money as getting lucky in the family lottery. Gah.
 

 
Went to Shutters on the Beach.
New England decor is my jam, so Vicki knew I’d fall in love with this hotel. My ‘just going to the bathroom’ visit turned into a full-on stalking of the place… and one day… one day… we’ll stump up the obscene per-night cost and stay in one the rooms, which I’m sure are just as dreamy.
 

 
Sat on the Friends couch.
Vicki and I aren’t just Friends fans. We’re the Friends fans. As in 17/17 on this quiz without breaking a sweat. It’s also our comfort blanket – stick on a Friends episode when we’re feeling blue and it cures all. So, getting to sit on the actual couch in actual Central Perk was a major highlight in our lives. We also saw Phoebe’s guitar, the guys’ foosball table and Monica’s see-through shirt from when she sung karaoke. Our 15yo selves’ heads exploded that day.
 

 
Ate an In-N-Out burger.
Okay, so Shake Shack and Five Guys may have taken their sweet time and finally come over to British shores, but we still don’t have In-N-Out. I just pray to the burger gods that some day we will. It’s mind-blowingly good… so good, in fact, that there was a queue of about 20 cars in the drive-thru but no one inside the restaurant at the counter. I asked Vicki why, and she just shrugged, “People don’t like getting out of their cars.” What can I say? I get it.
 

 
Dined at Nobu Malibu.
To those who don’t live in LA, and who read celeb magazine on a weekly basis, the city is a bit like a safari. You want to see the Big Five (movie star, TV star, reality star, sports star, singer), and if you don’t see at least one, you’re disappointed. Since the last time Vicki went to Nobu, she saw Kourtney Kardashian, Lord Disick, Adam Sandler and Miley Cyrus, she promised me that the odds were in our favour. We ate our sushi and sipped our drinks (both phenomenal) at a snail’s pace in the hopes that Taylor Swift was on her way. Sadly, it wasn’t to be, but with a view like this (on left), who cares*? We also went to The Castaway restaurant, near her house in Burbank, and it was perfect. With festoon lights, a view of the sprawling city and a wedge salad that I’d happily eat for every meal ever, I’d definitely recommend a visit.
 

 
*okay, slightly, but hey, on my flight to NY the next day I saw everyone’s favourite Z-listers, Mark Wright and Michelle Keegan (non-Brits, don’t even bother Googling). And Gael García Bernal, who is far more talented, so let’s just focus on him instead.
 

Here’s the thing. I have this thing with floors. And so do the masses, apparently, hence the appeal of this tile-filled Instagram account. No longer something you merely tromp over, the floor is the star attraction in this IG feed, from the sublime to the ridiculously intricate. Folks with often-stylish shoes are aiming down and snapping everything from monochrome hexagons to multi-coloured mosaics, and the Instagram community are going wild for it. Let’s face it, the goal is to one day be regrammed on this account, so I’ll just keep hunting for the kind of detail that will elicit sighs of joy. Who’s with me?
 

{clockwise from top left: @cntraveler, @creativekipi, @kellouhar, @kseniajasvina, @dimitrisbairabas, @carolinarandolph, @lucylaucht, @studiomatsalla, @lodarling, @strizheus}
 

I first encountered spinning when watching Romy and Michele’s* High School Reunion in 1997. Phoebe Buffay and Mira Sorvino were basically doing rising trot on an exercise bike, and I was intrigued.
 
Then I promptly forgot about it for 10 years until SoulCycle was born, and the world and his kale-eating wife were making beelines for pitch-black, musty-smelling rooms at the gym, with a mid-noughties club soundtrack thrumming out of them. Making everyone else in the gym feel guilty they weren’t astride a bike in the dark.
 
But I stood strong. I resisted. It’ll all blow over before you can say ‘kettleball swing’, I told myself.
 

 
Well, it didn’t, did it? The more I planked outside the spinning studio, the more intrigued I became. I also heard that you can burn an inordinate amount of calories peddling away in front of someone shouting orders at you down a Britney-esque microphone. Plus, Brooklyn Beckham is totally into it and he looks like he’s got life sussed. I wanted in.
 
After signing up and resisting the urge to call and cancel, like, 48 times, I sauntered into the studio 15 minutes early. Y’know, to show I wasn’t afraid (exercise bikes are like horses – they can smell fear). I saw someone else draping their towel across a seat to bagsy it, so I casually followed suit… plumping for a bike on the back row, just to be safe. The room soon filled up with people of all ages, shapes and sizes – and I figured if they’d come back for more punishment after their first class, it can’t be that bad.
 
Our instructor was very friendly but she was definitely of the ‘I’ve got a body like Jennifer Lopez under here’ ilk. I told her I was a first-timer, so she fiddled with my bike seat and gave me a quick Spinning 101: Stand up on the pedals when I tell you to, pedal faster when I tell you to, and change gears when I tell you to. The gears were an innocent-looking dial on the bike frame – I just needed to twizzle it. Easy. She asked if I’d ridden a road bike recently. I nodded confidently. I just didn’t tell her it was circa 1994. In Center Parcs.
 
Feeling a little bit like I was in a kids’ roller-disco (flashing lights, pumping music, but minus the Slush Puppies and slouch socks) I started peddling. I don’t know if I was doing it right, but no one else in the class gave me a ‘what on earth are you doing, you eejit?’ look, so I carried on. We all happily peddled along to a weird club version of Eminem… so far so simple. Although at one point my little legs were peddling so fast J-Lo singled me out and told me to calm down and change up a few gears to make it harder. Ah. It did seem a bit effortless. I just thought it was my ex-horse-rider’s thighs making light work of it all.
 
We then started an uphill climb. This is when, in real life, I would probably opt to get off the bike and push it, perhaps stopping off at a pub halfway up for a G&T and some honey-roasted peanuts. Sadly, dismounting and roadside refreshments weren’t an option… so instead I put my back in to it. For motivation, I conjured up images of my fitness instructor of choice, Jillian Michaels, yelling at me that, “I want you to feel like you’re going to die.” I puffed, I wheezed, and I sang along to the Rihanna song in my head – hopefully not out loud, but I can’t be sure, it was very loud in there – as we made the epic climb. It may have been a gentle hill for all I know, but it felt like I was winding round the Pyrenees.
 
Finally, J-Lo released us from our standing position and I lowered myself back onto the sweet seat of comfort. Well, ‘comfort’ in the ‘it’s all relative’ sense of the word. We chugged back water, caught our breath, and I wondered how many club-style Eminem songs they could possibly play in one class.
 
After a couple more mountains/hills/gentle inclines, the clock on the wall told me I’d made it through a whole spinning class without collapsing. Joy. Rapture. Exhaustion. Oh, and a sore behind (I might take a sheepskin saddle cover next time – that’s a thing, right?). But, man, did I feel self-righteous.
 
So, if you’ve been eschewing spinning classes for years – as I have – I say go for it. I now go every week and am even considering signing up for a second weekly class. I know! I’m practically Gwyneth! Let’s just not mention the fact I often reward myself with a double cheese burger, sweet potato fries and a frozen margarita on the way home. Paltrow wouldn’t approve.
 
*No, that’s not a typo. Yes, it made me cross, too. Still… great film.