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After a heavy night out with the Dance club last night, I’ve been feeling less than squeaky clean this morning, and as I’m planning on jumping in my little red car and going to the homeland to see the rents today, I wanted to wear something fashionable, but also deceptively slobby.

Despite the fact that I tend to run around a lot shouting about how much I hate Primark, both my top and jeans are from there. I actually have nothing against Primark jeans, as I have a pair of their £8 skinnies in three different colours, and not only do they fit well, but they last well too. I’ve been pelted with paintballs, harassed by high wires and rattled by rollercoasters all in Primark jeans that have handled it admirably.

I’ve featured my knitted cardi and chunky boots on here before, but just to re-cap, my cardi was a sale find at River Island, and my boots were a £12 bargain in a strange German shop that my mother dragged me into back home.

I’ve finished the whole look off with a slick of girly, pink lippy in order to give some colour to my pasty, hungover complexion, et voila. Deception is mine.

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