I don’t sleep well, and because I travel so much, when I wake up I often don’t know where I am. The other morning I woke up in Paris and I was like, “What? Why am I here? Should I be at an airport?” When my alarm goes off, I look at it and wonder what it’s going off for. It’s like a detective series—I have to unravel the mystery of the beeping phone.
I survey the floor and find an item and build an outfit around it. Something will catch my eye—a floral shirt or a pair of boots—and I’ll be like, “Okay, how do I make that into a look?” I try to keep things pretty minimal. I don’t even carry an umbrella. It’s very English. If it’s raining, I’ll just put up with it. I’m not very good at looking after myself and being a grown-up. I roam free like a terrified lone wolf. If I’m going to a shoot, they do my makeup there, but on my days off I don’t wear any, so I just shower and wash my hair. I’ve got, like, three strands, so it takes, like, one minute to wash. I hate people who take ages to get ready and are late. I measure disrespect in minutes.
The problem lately is that the paparazzi are waiting outside my house in New York, probably for my outfits more than my exciting dating life. I’m no Justin Bieber. I go to Aroma to get coffee, and the paparazzi walk me to ballet class. I drink one or two cappuccinos a day. I think that’s bad, but I have worse habits. I just gave up smoking because I was deathly ill and couldn’t fit the smoke in my lungs. Whiskey is my main indulgence.
In England, there’s no exercise element, whereas in America I start my day—when I have one off—by doing Ballet Beautiful with my friend Harley Viera-Newton. In L.A., it’s all design for my collection with AG. I’m always traveling for work, and 70 percent of the time I’m jet-lagged. This month I’ve been in London, Paris, New York, L.A., and back to New York. The past year has been a real learning curve. If my diary doesn’t have set things in it, it seems that people on other teams will take advantage of that and I’ll split apart. It’s the biblical story about how they [threatened to] split the baby in half because they couldn’t decide whose it was. I feel like real life is like that.
When I can I go to Jack’s Wife Freda or to the Smile and get scrambled eggs with cheese and avocado. In New York, I’ll take cabs, Uber, the subway, or when we’re going to a number of different things around the city, I get on the back of my assistant’s Vespa.
Realistically, I’m a journalist, but I want to do TV again. Someone said to me the other day: “Name someone who excelled in more than one arena. Alexa, you need to focus on one thing because you can’t succeed if you do it simultaneously.” I won’t allow people to limit what I do. In the afternoon, I might go back home and do some work. My assistant sends e-mails that say, “from the office of Alexa Chung,” but my office is essentially my bed. That sounds really unprofessional, but it’s usually just us two in bed cranking out e-mails. I go on Astrology Zone once a month, and I love the Secret Language of Birthdays. You put in your birthday and it comes back with a survey of people born on that day and their attributes—it’s so spot-on, it’s insane. I’m a Scorpio and from the Week of Depth. I think it just means that I overthink things, and I’m reflective and dark.
My friend Tennessee Thomas has a shop called the Deep End Club in the East Village, so if I’ve finished my work I’ll stop by. I’ll likely be hungry at that point, so I’ll pick up a cappuccino and a sandwich from across the road and take it in. I have a close group of friends, and if I invite one somewhere, I know that they’ll invite the rest. I’m out every night with them—I don’t like doing it for work. Half my life is spent at a dive bar and half is spent at, like, a Valentino dinner. Usually I’m lamenting that my shoes are ill-fitting. Last night I went to karaoke, but I can’t talk about it anymore because I’ve become like a caricature. I went a number of times a week for about a year. When I like something I become obsessed with it, even, like, string cheese. Right now it’s Lindt chocolate balls.
I come home, get some water, wash my teeth and face, get into bed, and fall asleep. I always sleep naked. I’d like to be in bed with a boy at 10 P.M., but that’s not what happens.
Via: Harper’s Bazaar