Alexa Chung Quotes

Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes life just sucks.

Boys say they don't mind how you get your hair done. But then they leave you for someone with really great standard girl hair and the next thing you know you're alone with a masculine crop crying into your granola.

The problem with heartbreak is that nobody can help you when you're heartbroken. Nobody and nothing. Not the films you watch alone desperately searching for a character who feels the way you do, not the glasses or bottles of whisky you keep by your bed and certainly not Instagram.

Nobody goes through life without having their heart broken and one day you'll wake up and it will be okay.

I have googled 'how long does heartbreak last?' The result more popular than that was 'how long does heartburn last?' This implies people suffer from heartburn more than they do heartbreak which is a good thing because heartbreak sucks way fucking more than acid reflux ever could.

My mouth hasn't shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain, which hasn't stopped thinking about you since before any kiss.

Every time you post a picture of yourself to Instagram looking fake happy a fairy dies. (p. 128).

DJing for people is fun until someone comes up with a phone screen that has 'PLAY SOME RIHANNA' written on it. I prefer to play older songs because they're the ones I personally enjoy dancing and singing along to and modern dance music bores my brains out.

Social networking is an ironic name for something that has little to do with connecting us with others and everything to do with self-promotion. (p. 154).

Where will this all end up? Will we completely lose our ability to be private, respectful, subtle? Will romance die? Often I long for a simpler time when break ups weren't made a trillion times worse by photo tagging, and rather than spelling it out for people you could be irritated by something and not feel as though you had to voice your gripe with convenient hashtags such as #dogaccidents, #cake and #snow in case it becomes a trending topic.

When I was thirteen I spent a lot of time pretending to like dance music because everyone at my school seemed to love it. If only I'd known it was OK to have different tastes to others and that one day my mind would be blown open by an older man who would introduce me to The Smiths, The Cure, Buzzcocks, Talking Heads and almost every other band I adore to this day. I also wish I'd been reassured that one day, yes, a boy would actually fancy me in spite and potentially, deliberately, FOR my zero boob/skinny legs combo. But mainly I wish I'd listened to my mother when she said learning to play the piano might come in handy in the future and would actually be something I would thank her for forcing me to do. Every Wednesday we would drive to Mrs Batten's house listening to The ArchersI, with me in the passenger seat trying desperately to think up excuses for why I hadn't practiced that week. Though it seemed very unlikely at the time, I am thankful for those piano lessons every time I manage to impress a boy by hammering out some Chopin when drunk (swot up, kids!).

but I couldn’t get through the day wearing clothes belonging to elderly people. I am not Alexa Chung

We watched Victoria Beckham shrink into her seat at the World Cup and traced the curves of Kate Moss's thighs in her gold lurex Glastonbury minidress. We swelled with longing as sequins dripped from the narrow shoulders of the Olsen twins and signed with envy as the inky daisies tattooed around Peaches Geldof's stomach squeezed her into a smaller, more angular shape. We watched Alexa Chung form a long black line in her skinny jeans and ogled Cassie from Skins, angel-haired in a green-gold dress, spun out on pills in the dawn.

At this point trillions of pictures have been taken of Kate Moss in an effort to capture her beauty, style and essence. Yet our appetite for more, more, more rages on unabated. She's paid very well to sell us things that we might previously have had no interest in buying. That's because anything she puts near her body is instantly transformed into the coolest thing ever, because She is the coolest thing ever and nobody can explain why. It's just a fact.

I myself have an extensive collection of leather jackets, despite the fact that the only way I can tell them apart is by looking at the label sewn into the neck. And yet I will continue to buy them because, like many other items in my wardrobe, they are a perennial classic and I have a weird mental block that every time I go shopping that means I forget what I already own the moment I cross the threshold into the store.

Social networking is an ironic name for something that has little to do with connecting us with others and everithing to do with self-promotion. (p. 154).

Maybe all my problems would be solved if I got the fat sucked out of my thighs. Things just fall into place more easily for skinny-legged women. Look at Alexa Chung.