I had become so accustomed to the daily warmth of Los Angeles that I had a shock the other day when I got onto my bike and realized it was bloody freezing. In reality, it was a very pleasant 69 degrees Fahrenheit (21 degrees Celsius for us Brits), but it was such a shock to my system that I ran inside and found the thickest hoodie I had.

Autumn in L.A. is an interesting season. I had forgotten autumn existed until that fateful 'cold' day, but then I started noticing the subtle differences around me. Gone were the flip-flops; now Uggs were teamed with hoodies and shorts. The leaves were dropping off trees and people were breaking out their jackets. All of a sudden, people are talking of pumpkin shopping and costumes, and I'm getting pretty psyched for my first proper American-style Halloween. The movie theatres are alive with new and old horror films (my personal favourite) and I'm coming up with new ways of working my London wardrobe into my L.A. wardrobe for a little bit of warmth (check out Alexis Alagem's great style tips on transitional trends).  

But, though I hate to admit it, I'm missing the coziness brought about by miserable weather. It's perfectly acceptable in England to tell one's friends that going out is a no-go due to torrential rain. I've spent many a Saturday night curled up on the sofa watching Xfactor and trashy Saturday night films, and not felt the least bit bad on missing out on fun in the rain. In L.A., it's a different story. The constant good weather means a constant upbeat 'can-do' attitude, which often conflicts with my inner 'Can't Be Arsed' nature. 

So for those of you who are missing me out and about on a Saturday night, don't be upset - it's my occasional relapse into the comfort of my sofa and Saturday night television, and I won't be missing you one bit.