London Calling
Picture this: a woman in her early 30s, hair in a messy bun that’s one faulty bobby pin away from total collapse. Her mascara slightly smudged from yesterday’s cry session over a tub of ice cream, stumbling into her quaint London flat with an armful of paperwork, and a splash of coffee on her wrinkled white shirt. That, dear reader, is the epitome of “frazzled” in the world of rom-coms.
