Charlotte Argyrou
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Weave in and out of my illustration business, inspirations and latest collaborations. Join me on instagram, pinterest and facebook.

Touched. These are my thank you cards that go ou Touched. These are my thank you cards that go out to industry folk who send over referrals or book me to create thank you gifts for their own clients. I'm really touched and strive to reciprocate however I can. I share this still amid an incredible run of summer season wedding illustrations and in a month where I've felt the nourished by the support of many aligned creative businesses. Tagging some of those with public-facing accounts... Bespoke letterpress cards by @inkandpaper_ldn @fayecornhillcoaching @blueskyflowers @wiskowandwhite @gardensbysarahbrown @wizzandwild @thatvintagehousethatcould @susanclarkinteriors @jackdaweditorial @juliadaviescoaching @maddy.shine and many, many florists who share my cards with couples.
A question for you...what's the first thing you do A question for you...what's the first thing you do in the morning? I open my eyes to a little frame on my bedside table (a bit like this one, pictured) with silly photo booth photos from a decade ago. I reach for my phone and do the Daily Calm or Daily Trip on the Calm app before heading to the bathroom. What do you see first? And do you reach for your phone instantly?
Real talk now... In my pushy girls' grammar scho Real talk now... In my pushy girls' grammar school I attended in the '90s, I was taught pretty transparently that success is a destination, and happiness awaits when you get there. It's utter horse manure and I've spent the last four years since I launched my illustration business unlearning that. This week, I feel like I'm having the same conversation with women in their twenties, thirties and forties. We are all trying to get somewhere else, exhausting ourselves in the process, whilst we busily try to make things perfect for an imagined future version of us. I'm exhausted even writing that sentence. I've come to accept I exist in glorious multitudes: one satin heel in a botanical fantasyland, half a mind racing ahead in a wild romantic version of myself (music crescendos), a damp sock in a muddy wellyboot of schoolruns and dance class schedules, hands stroking pencils 'til my fingers linger on the perfect green (forever thinking about that perfect shade of green)... always just a notification away from incredible digital connections and oops sorry overdue library loans. I exist in all these places, spaces, all the time. And really, it's all here, and now, just the way we are. I believe it was the great philosopher Master Oogway from Kung Fu Panda who reminds us: "The future is a mystery. The past is history. Today is a gift, that's why it's called the present."
"But are you *actually* ok?" asked a friend, knowi "But are you *actually* ok?" asked a friend, knowing how my wedding season is currently going 😚🥰🤗 and aware of some other plates I'm spinning 🌪️. ⁠ ⁠ The answer is I am, but I'm being selective with my energy.⁠ ⁠ Here's a list of things I'm saying yes to this week:⁠ - outstanding illustrations for new customers and regular clients⁠ - serving my inner circle⁠ ⁠ Things I'm saying no to this week:⁠ - everything else⁠ ⁠ Here's to you, if you're sailing in the same boat. Xx
"It's that low sun. It's what I'm here for," I pre "It's that low sun. It's what I'm here for," I preached to friends in the park last weekend. I was talked into a glass of wine, which slipped down as the sun kissed the side of my face. The sky promptly turned wild, and lashings of rain threatened my hoodless outfit. In and out of shelter, we stayed til the sun could muster no more. The light in the studio has continued in the same vein all week. I've been forced to shut the sun out entirely when it drenched my paper with such verve that I couldn't see what I was doing. We reached a happy compromise today, as I began a new colour of tone-on-tone roses. The soundtrack included: 👨‍🍳 Off Menu 👨‍🏫 School of Greatness 💃My virgin episode of Fortunately, which I think I will need to grow into in a few years, but grateful for the hosts making that transition feel all the more convivial... And my copy of Stanley Tucci's new memoir Taste arrived, which I will hungrily devour. What are you listening to? X
I wrote a poem for my man, which he will never see I wrote a poem for my man, which he will never see. ⁠ ⁠ It's a mundane tale of nestled cosiness, deep respect, and the hope that at some point this week we'll grab an hour alone together.

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