The Ibiza Comedown, A Paris Escape & The Last of Wedding Season

September always feels like a shift. Summer’s not quite over, but it’s definitely… changing. The rosé-fuelled chaos of July and August is softening into something slower, and suddenly we’re all somewhere between desperately clinging to our sandals and secretly craving structure. London’s cooling down (slightly), the light is getting golden in a different way, and inboxes are, annoyingly, alive again. We’re in the great ‘in-between’—still sun-warmed, but no longer sun-drenched.

But first—yes, babe, Paris did in fact happen. And it delivered in ways I didn’t even know I needed. That last-minute Eurostar ticket might be the most romantic decision I’ve made all year.

Paris: A Weekend of Good Decisions & Excellent Pastries

There’s something about Paris in early September that makes me want to throw out my entire wardrobe, change my perfume, and start writing poetry again. The city feels quieter but somehow even more alive. There’s elegance in the air. And, of course, no summer is truly complete without one final spontaneous escape. Cue the Eurostar and an “I’ll just stay two nights” lie I told myself.

A few perfect, cinematic moments:

• Morning cafés in Saint-Germain – Because nothing screams main-character energy quite like sitting alone with an espresso, pretending to be unbothered while eyeing every pain au chocolat in sight.

• A long, lingering lunch at Chez Janou – The burrata? Ridiculous. The steak? Tender poetry. The €6 carafe of red? Better than anything I’ve ever paid £18 for in London.

• Golden hour at Palais Royal – I journaled for 30 seconds, people-watched for 90 minutes, and daydreamed about quitting London and opening a bookshop somewhere in the Marais.

• A midnight stroll along the Seine, gelato in hand, pretending I was in a black-and-white French film. My feet ached, my hair was frizzing, and still—I’ve never felt more myself.

Did I come home with a suitcase full of French skincare, three new lip balms I absolutely didn’t need, and a renewed obsession with investment blazers? Yes. Am I already plotting a longer return? Also yes. Honestly, the only thing that stopped me from staying was a wedding back home and the fact that my Airbnb didn’t have a proper hairdryer.

Also: Paris is the only city where you can feel both anonymous and completely seen. And that’s a kind of magic I’ll chase for a while.

The Ibiza Comedown: Trying to Be a Functioning Human Again

Ibiza was magic. Wild, glittery, vitamin-deficient magic. But coming back? Brutal.

One minute I was dancing on a rooftop in a mini dress and borrowed sunglasses, the next I was Googling “is three coffees before 9 AM normal?”

Current recovery tactics:

• Pilates & long walks – My joints still think I’m in denial.

• Hydration – Groundbreaking.

• Plans with a strict 9 PM curfew – I love you, but I also love waking up without regrets.

• Skincare overhaul – After one too many nights of forgetting to remove my mascara, I’m back on the double cleanse.

• Green smoothies – Slightly performative, but deeply satisfying.

And yet… I lasted four days before getting dragged out for a midweek dinner that turned into wine, then dancing, then late-night Uber snacks. We call that balance. And honestly, life is too short to decline a spontaneous margarita.

Wedding Season: One Last Big Summer Affair

September weddings? Elite behaviour.

The chaos of peak summer is behind us, everyone’s tanned, slightly more composed, and the energy? Immaculate. This month delivered two very different but equally dreamy weddings:

• The Cotswolds – Rolling hills, fairy lights, and a bride who genuinely looked like she’d stepped out of a Chanel campaign. I cried twice. Once during the vows, once over the fig and burrata starter. The garden ceremony had bees, soft jazz, and someone’s Labrador curled under the chairs—it was practically a Nancy Meyers film.

• London at The Ned – Chic city vibes, a live jazz band, and me fully committing to my Gatsby-core fantasy in a slip dress and soft waves. I said “divine” three times too many and didn’t even care. A martini in each hand and not a care in the world.

Honourable mention: the table speeches that had every woman at my table clutching napkins to their faces. Champagne-induced emotion is real, okay?

Also: if I had a pound for every time I heard “this is your year” from a tipsy relative-of-the-bride, I could afford another weekend in Paris.

Style: Transitional Season & The Return of Real Clothes

September dressing is a puzzle. You leave the house at 8 AM feeling smug in linen, then curse yourself by 1 PM when the breeze hits.

My current uniform:

• Blazers over everything – Paris made it feel like a personality trait. Bonus points for navy with gold buttons.

• Loafers & ballet flats – Autumn shoes without the autumn drama. Paired with ankle socks if I’m feeling rogue.

• Silky midi skirts & fine-gauge knits – September in fabric form. With a trench coat on standby.

• A soft bronzer and gloss combo – Pretending the holiday glow is still very much alive. Throw in a hint of highlighter and a low ponytail and it’s giving ‘French off-duty model.’

Also: I’m in my quiet statement era. Neutrals that whisper “I’ve got my life together” even when I’ve eaten toast for dinner three nights in a row. It’s soft power dressing—and I’m into it.

Mindset: The Slow Return to Normal

September is always painted as the great reset, but I’m not rushing the reboot. There’s a softness I want to carry forward—a little leftover Paris, a little Ibiza ease.

So, my new season manifesto:

• Less burnout, more balance – No is a full sentence. So is “not this week.”

• Fewer people-pleasing yeses, more soul-pleasing ones.

• Romanticise the every day – A proper lunch, fresh flowers, the good glassware on a Wednesday.

• More slow mornings, even if that just means sipping coffee before opening the laptop.

• Walking with no destination, because not all movement needs purpose.

Because structure doesn’t have to mean suffocation. And productivity doesn’t mean giving up the pleasure of it all. I want to keep finding little ways to live deliberately—without rushing, without overloading, without losing the sparkle.

The Month Ahead: What’s Next?

• Work reset – Summer was delicious chaos, but I’m ready to feel focused again. Almost. I’ve dusted off my planner and am flirting with the idea of an inbox cleanse.

• Cosy city nights – September in London is magic. Candlelit dinners, half-zipped jackets, the soft buzz of people reclaiming routine. I’m eyeing red wine and richer pasta.

• Maybe Italy? – I saw some tempting flights… and we all know what happened last time I said that. Let’s just say my carry-on is always semi-packed.

• More weekend rituals – Farmer’s markets, fresh croissants, a good book in a window seat. If that’s not wellness, I don’t know what is.

September, let’s keep it chic, grounded, and just indulgent enough to still feel like summer.

Sophie x