Chelsea Munroe

Unapologetic

I keep ending up against walls, in cubicles, and in Ubers I should have sat still in, then writing it all down because the mess photographs better than pretending I am well behaved.

My Life

I’m twenty-seven, London born, privately funded, publicly messy, still living with Sophie and Mia while I chase fame one confession, one hangover and one badly timed shag at a time.

Party Times

Sophie hovers with a warning look, Mia is already mixing drinks in the kitchen, and I am halfway out the door collecting names, gossip and bad decisions for later tonight.

Who Is Ms Munroe

About Me

I’m Chelsea Munroe. Chels, if we’ve shared a cigarette. Chelsea, if you’re my mother or a solicitor.

27. London. Five foot five in socks, taller in the shoes I regret at 3am. Dark hair, brown eyes, permanently mid-touch-up. If you have ever watched a woman redo her mouth in the back of a spoon, congratulations, you have met the brand.

I write down what people do after midnight and then I publish it before they have thought of a better version. That is the job. The rest is lighting.

The Official Version

I grew up with money and central heating and the sort of parents who throw parties and then leave you to charm the guests. I have a journalism degree and enough maths leftover in my head that I can read a spreadsheet when nobody is looking. I do not need this site to pay the rent. I need it because being nobody sounds worse than being talked about.

I live in Parsons Green with two flatmates. Sophie works in fashion PR and has opinions about my life that she delivers over tea like a weather report. Mia is worse than me, which is a high bar, and she knows it. Our group chat is called “who’s coming home tonight”. It is not a bit.

I will not hurt animals. I will tell the truth even when it makes me look messy. Messy photographs well. That is not a personality. It is a strategy I keep forgetting is a strategy.

What I Actually Do

I go out. I come home. I write about the bit in the middle.

Confessions, gossip, nights that should have ended at the door and didn’t. Who lasted. Who offered water afterwards like that was the same thing as an apology. Who asked if I had a boyfriend after he had already had his hands in my hair. I keep notes. I always keep notes. Sophie thinks it is unhinged. Mia thinks it is content. They are both right and I am still typing.

People ask if the stories are about me. Some of them are. Some of them walked into a toilet cubicle at 4am and started talking, which in this city counts as consent to be remembered.

The Unofficial Version

I am cocky on purpose. It saves time. I am also the person who checks her reflection in the kettle while the toast is on, so do not confuse the posture with inner peace.

I like men. I like stories more. If those two things collide, the story wins. If you find that unromantic, you are probably lovely and I hope you have a nice Sunday.

I am good at lipstick, deadlines, and leaving a room while it is still interesting. I am bad at empathy, waiting, and pretending I did not enjoy myself. I say “look” too much. I start sentences in the middle. I will call a grown man “this boy” if he has earned it.

My deepest fear is a blank search result with my name on it. My current hobby is not letting that happen.

If You Are Here To Work With Me

Press, partnerships, the odd brand that can handle a sentence containing the word thigh. Use the contact page. Do not slide into six platforms at once. I will see all of them and assume you are chaotic, which I respect, but I still need one email.

If you are here because you think you recognised yourself: maybe. I change enough that your solicitor can relax and not enough that you will sleep brilliantly.

That Is The Lot

I am not a lifestyle guru. I do not have a morning routine worth copying unless your routine is coffee, concealer, and deciding whether last night is a secret or a headline.

Read the diaries. Start wherever looks most indefensible. If you stay, stay because it is funny and a bit too honest. If you leave, leave. I will be in the mirror either way.