Susie Boyt
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I Measured Out My Life In Greasy Spoons
Mrs Worthington Replies
A Guide to Modern Manners
Withdrawl Symptoms
Londoners Diary 2004 (ES)
Standing in the shadows...
Live lightly for Lent
An agony aunt resigns
Department stores
Best books [v6.0]
First days at university
I wish I'd written...
Londoners Diary (ES)
Consumer culture
No Shows
Badge Of Honour
Caviar Capers
Apron Strings
Child’s Play
Who’s The Baby
Summer Of Cakes
No Pain No Gain
Nightmare Without My Dream Neighbour
Grown Up, Own Up Spree
The End Of The Affair
Service With a Smile
Paris Party
Fantasy Gift Games
The Lemon Dress
The Judy Garland Dress Auction
Fantasy Wardrobes
The Ring and I
Big Birthdays
Parents Evening
A Blooming Minefield
A Little Sharpener
Casino Royale
Princess and the £23,000 Pea
Mother Kelly's Doorstep
Princess in Paradise
Me Me Me
Rude Encounter
Teething Troubles
Dressing for Radio
Strength and Quiet Substance
Doctor, Doctor
Home and Away
Going, Going, Gone
All Shopped Out
Self Storage
Save and Splurge
Gotta Dance
From the Heart
Party Girl
Sale Time Again
Snoozing at the Savoy
A Cut-the-Corners Christmas
Ill in Paris
Birthday Reins
A Little Princess
Nicer in Neice
Shush about Shoes
Same old Same Old
I Need Tweed
Cupboard Love
Pants for the Memories
Braving the Sales
Run for your Life
The Reward Purchase
New York Beauty School
A Dress that Doesn't Bite
Present and Correct

Journalism articles by Susie Boyt

Here is a selection of articles. These include all the Consumer Culture columns I have written for the Financial Times.


No Shows

Although it is well known that many people have gym memberships that they never call on and country cottages that they just cant bring themselves to visit (What is there to do in the country, anyway, apart from eat?) it has struck me recently that I know several people who are in full time or at least three times a week psychoanalytic psychotherapy who never actually attend their sessions. They write down their appointments dutifully, these non attenders, in their palm tops or their kitchen calendars, they pay the bills promptly and they genuinely believe,as each session comes and goes, that they intend to go, that they almost made it, that they just missed it by whisker, yet they never quite manage to get their appointments, or at least certainly not at anything like the right time.


Badge Of Honour

Years ago I was in a pub in Oxford, The Bullingdon Arms, on a date with a boy, who was impossibly glamorous and slightly dissolute. It was after a Tammy Wynette concert at the Apollo Theatre and Tammy’s courageous, melancholy strains were buzzing round our heads. I had the feeling this young man quite liked me when I was happy and not at all when I was sad, so I cranked up high levels of cheer in his company to help things to go well. Yet every so often this pose tired me and I found myself worrying lest I went too far and he decided I was airheaded and without any depth so I would sink into unexplaned and sophisticated (I hoped) bouts of gloom. I wasnt the world’s easiest companion back then. Dressed like a school girl in a wine coloured velvet mini skirt and a navy v neck and I fought my way valiantly thorugh the smoky crowds in the pub to order our drinks, humming Stand by your Man. ‘


Guardian UnlimitedEvening StandardFinancial Times








































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