North Berwick is the most adorable seaside village. Ice-cream and boats and the ‘burn the roof of your mouth off cause it’s so good but so darn hot’ chowder from the Lobster Shack and sea and sand and the kind of locals that stop in the street just for a chat (with your dogs) and palm trees and sunshine (not guaranteed) and the best beach walks over the dunes and the golf courses and on the sand for miles and miles… this little village is high on sea air.
So, easy look, nothing new… except this bag. If it’s payday and if you’re gonna shop and you’re only gonna buy one thing, make it this. It’s super soft suede and that colour of tan you kinda want to lick and those chain handles… in short, she looks way more expensive than she really is. Winning.
What can I say about all this beach spam? Sorry not sorry? That about covers it. Driving round Scotland checking out all the beaches in the name of ‘research’ just about makes this the best job ever. And this one, Yellowcraig, is one of the best. The husband thinks this is it, no need to look any further, he has found his favourite. I’d almost agree with him except I don’t want the tour to be over just yet…
We headed to North Berwick for the weekend, hopped straight onto the beach and started walking. We walked West for a while, maybe close to an hour and there she was – the most gorgeous white arc of wide, empty sand. The seaweed and jellyfish are off having a party somewhere else – this beach is pristine save some shells but you want those to be there.
There aren’t any amenities so you’ll be bringing your own picnic but there is one small inlet of water, a tiny freshwater river that carves through the sand, just as you arrive onto the arc, and that makes the most perfect watering hole for the dogs.
The great thing about quiet Scottish beaches is that there’s no one around to judge your fashion choices. Comfort wins and judging by the number of times I’ve worn this stripe tank, I can absolutely justify the extra pennies it cost me… sometimes it’s worth spending the extra on key pieces and, for me, stripes are key. I air dried my hair in the wind which was perfect (until I discovered I didn’t have the correct plug for my GHD’s and was stuck with Monica Barbados hair for the entire weekend). And I wore these new sunnies from Iolla, the most gorgeous local Finnieston store – you have to check them out, especially if you wear prescription, hello £65 handmade frames + lenses… win.
I wish the sun had been shining because I don’t really feel like these shots do it any justice… but I’ll be back the next sunny day for some more, I can promise that.
And these two had so much fun that there was a quiet, blissful moment where they both fell asleep and looked entirely angelic and I wanted to package that moment and keep it forever (so I took an Instagram).
Let’s just start by saying that this beach is not exactly easy to find. But when you do slip to the back of the caravan park and walk through a wheat field (or bounce through a wheat field), pop through a gate style and turn a corner to start the descent to Heads of Ayr beach, well, let’s just say I think you’ll agree with me that it was worth the navigational challenges.
It’s one of those walks where you stop so many times to take photos that the husband fears you may never make it to the sand. But you do. Eventually. And when you pass the sounds of a hidden waterfall and step out through wild daisies onto that sand, you can almost guarantee you’ll be the only one there. And that suits me just fine because my little furry beach terrors can roam and paddle and bark with glee and there’s nothing to disturb but the wheat field and the giant headland.