Work With Me
If you are here, you either want me to write something, wear something, turn up somewhere, or say your name in a room full of people who pretend they are not listening.
Good. I like a brief with an agenda.
I am Chelsea Munroe. I write about the bits of London nights that usually stay in group chats and toilet cubicles. Brands still email me as if I run a candle review page. I do not. I run a page where girls tell the truth at 4am and I write it down before anyone gets sensible.
What I Am Actually Good For
I can make a product sound like something I would steal from a bathroom at an afterparty. That is a compliment. Most press releases sound like they were written by a man who has never been late for a minicab.
I am useful if you want:
- A first-person piece that does not read like a press release in a wig
- A night-out partnership that looks lived in, not staged on a stepladder
- Someone who will actually go to the thing, talk to people, and come back with a story
- Social copy with a pulse, not “so excited to team up with”
- An appearance that makes the room slightly more dangerous, in a good way
I have a journalism degree and a maths brain I use when the invoice arrives. Charm first. Spreadsheet second. Both happen.
What I Will Do
Wear the dress. Drink the drink. Stay later than the nice girls. Ask the question nobody put on the run of show. Write the piece as if a friend is reading it on the night bus with one Airpod in.
I will name the hotel if the sheets were good. I will name the bar if the lighting made everyone look expensive. I will not pretend I discovered your brand in a moment of quiet reflection on a Sunday. I discovered it because you paid me, or because I nicked it off a sink, or both.
What I Will Not Do
I will not call a vitamin gummy “life changing” unless it has personally rearranged my evening.
I will not pose in a field holding a smoothie like I have never been in Soho after midnight.
I will not write “as a busy mum of three” energy. I am 27, I live with two flatmates, and one of them has already walked in on me. That is the brand.
I will not bash another woman for clicks. I will take the piss out of a man who lasted four minutes and then offered me water. Different sport.
I will not hurt animals, do fake activism, or pretend your app cured my loneliness. My loneliness is doing fine. It gets me into rooms.
The Menu
Sponsored stories. You want a night, a product, a hotel, a launch, a “we have a suite and a problem.” I go, I use it, I write what actually happened. If it was mid, I will find a prettier way to say mid. If it was filthy and brilliant, you will get the version that still makes legal nervous.
Site features and columns. Guest slots, branded diaries, “I tried this so you do not have to” except I usually would have tried it anyway.
Social. Instagram, whatever we are calling Twitter this year, the odd story that looks accidental and took twenty minutes of lipstick.
Events. Panels if you want someone who will not read the cue cards like a hostage. Parties if you want a person who talks to the photographer and the cloakroom boy. I collect both.
Usage and rights. You can have the piece. You cannot have my entire personality in perpetuity. We can argue about that in the email like adults.
Who Should Not Email
Crypto men who open with “hey queen.”
PR people who attach a 14-page PDF and the sentence “just a little something for your consideration.”
Anyone who wants me to look wholesome next to a family-sized yoghurt.
Anyone who says “we need a girl next door.” I am the girl who left the door unlocked. Different listing.
Money, Because Pretending Is Boring
I have my own money. That is not a flex so much as a warning. I do not need your tote bag badly enough to lie in 900 words.
If the fee is insulting I will not have a long conversation about “exposure.” I am already exposed. That is the site.
If the fee is good I am suddenly very available, very charming, and extremely on time with copy. It is amazing how that works.
How To Ask
Email like a person. Tell me who you are, what the thing is, when you need it, and what you are paying. Add the product or the invite. Do not make me hunt through a moodboard called FINAL_v7_USE_THIS.
If it is a night out, say where. If it is a hotel, say how many hours I get the room. I have written a whole piece about the three-hour microstay. I understand the assignment.
If you want me on a panel with three men called Tom, warn me. I will still come. I will just wear better shoes.
Send it to the contact page before you try sliding into a DM like we met in a cloakroom. DMs are for chaos. Email is for invoices.
If I like it, I will say yes quickly. If I do not, I will say no without a speech about brand alignment. Life is short. The afterparty is shorter.