Well, maybe you knew this, maybe you didn’t, but I just got back from a semester in London. Couldn’t you tell from my Lily Allen/Alexa Chung/Twiggy glow? I may now say things like “proper” and “cinema”, I may now follow sock_house_meeting on Instagram, I may now consider myself a Raven Smith copycat, and I may have said that Kate Middleton actually was getting a BBL only to be insanely humiliated to find out that she was, in fact, receiving treatment. Not to worry andtosters! I am back in New York City and can feel it running through my veins yet again. However, to celebrate my time across the Atlantic, I thought I would walk you through all of my notable finds in London. Before I left, everyone, and I mean EVERYone, was telling me to save up because the shopping in London was going to be like nothing I had ever experienced. So I did exactly that and dreamt of the stands of Queen Victoria lace and Victoria Beckham low-rise jeans. Within my very first walk through Notting Hill, I was already running up to windows with my nose pressed against the glass, ogling at the treasures inside
So let us start with exactly that. My first walk through Notting Hill. I was convinced that I was going to be above the quaint and sleepy neighborhood. While in London, I developed the disease of comparing every neighborhood to ones in New York, and I knew that Notting Hill was going to be like the West Village; charming, but run through by millennial transplants. I was sorely wrong. The pale pink, blue, and yellow houses had me nearly in tears. The winding roads with three-year-olds shoving baguettes in their mouths and thrift shop after thrift shop had me wrapped around Notting Hill’s little finger. Not to mention Straker’s. A restaurant started by a hot young chef named Thomas Straker who hired all of his equally hot friends and making an impressionable young girl like myself nearly die. But, just as the sun was getting low and my brain was sore from navigating google maps, I stumbled upon this jewelry store that had chunky gold necklaces in the window. The one with a fat chain and big gold strawberries up and down it caught my eye. I immediately walked in and began sliding between the impressively small aisles filled with costume jewelry, vintage Moschino jewelry, and jewelry that my grandmother must have donated when she passed because I really had only seen this stuff in her collection. With the strawberry necklace in the window in the back of my mind, I scanned the store to see if I could find anything that might surpass it. It turned out that nothing did so I purchased it from the old lady in the back at her tiny little folding desk. Quickly, I clasped it around my neck and felt the heavy metal way down my chest, just how I like it.
Desperately seeking for more experience like the one I had in Notting Hill, friends from Shoreditch thought it was time that I saw the Columbia Road Flower market. As someone who swoons from bright colors and nice smells, I could not wait to see all of the British flowers that lined the street. However, my friend Sadie kept on telling me that there was more than just the blossoms, there were stores along the street too that were only open on Sundays for the market, and one in particular called Straw that I was just going to “die over.” Swo as we walked down the road with British men shouting, “two bunches for a tenner (ten-ah),” we approached Straw and Sadie was in fact correct. I did die over this store. There were vintage wicker baskets in piles on the floor, ceramics on shelves, jelly sandals in a hamper, and, the real kicker, 100% cotton nightgown dresses hanging on the walls. Even the stuff that wasn’t for sale we wanted to take home. At that moment, I declared that I would not make any purchases for the next month so I could come back and buy a basket and a dress. To my surprise and I am sure yours too, I actually did save my money and returned to Straw. I bought a pink, milk-maid like dress that was bound to make me look like a Lisbon sister. I also purchased a vintage basket that I would use whenever I found myself in the south of France, on my way to meet my gorgeous French boyfriend at the beach! It was perfect! And the thing that I could not get over, and truly still can’t, is the price point of this store. In New York, Straw could have gotten away with tripling their prices. Instead, it was actually affordable and fair! Weird right?
Now , the next part of this recount I consider to be the naughty section. Mom, please skip the next paragraph and to everyone else, do not try this at home (actually, please do because I found it liberating. Just don’t tell anyone I told you to do it). I am going to need everyone to keep their judgment at bay please! If you are reading this, then I am sure you also understand that when it comes to clothing, we can push ourselves to do almost anything and everything we can to get our paws on some fabric. My semester was coming to a close and was going with a bang with Sadie’s 21st birthday. It was going to be the event of the century and I needed a dress to match. The party was being held at a strip club so I was hunting for something fun, tasteful, a little ratchet, but cute too! I went back to Notting Hill and went inside a store called Found and Vision that was full of vintage designer treasures. When I saw it, I knew it was the one; a mini-dress version of the John Galliano for Dior newspaper dress that none other than Carrie Bradshaw made famous. It made my body look amazing and also was ~ iconic ~. Everybody thought I had to have it, the price just disagreed. Everyone was coming up with ideas on how to get the money. “Sell some clothes!” Not enough time. “Dip into your savings!” No more savings left. “Make a GoFundMe!” Too tone deaf. I had just prepared myself to let it go until Sadie pulled me aside and told me to start a Seeking Arrangements account. Just send a couple of sexy texts and people will want to pay for it in no time! Sure it may gnaw at my dignity but she did have a point. It was quick and nobody had to know about it (until now, I guess). So I went home and made an account with a picture of me covering my face in my dress and the caption, “looking for someone who wants to buy this for me!!!!!” Soon, men were lining up. I chose one whose avatar in their profile had kind brown eyes that looked like I could trust. I told him about the dress, the history of it and that it was for a super important event that my life basically depended on, and after an AI generated picture of cleavage, a few “ur so sexy” texts, and an empty promise to meet up next week, I had the money sent to me. I couldn’t believe how easy this was. Perhaps another article will be coming your way about how this made me feel and if I would ever do it again, but for now, I can just say this: did it make me feel icky? Yes. Do I now have a fantastic dress that looks like it was made for me? YES! And that really is all that matters at the end of the day.
On a much sweeter, more innocent note, I got the most gorgeous pair of pale yellow, satin ballet flats with a black rose on the toe. On my very last day in London, I was walking to Sadie’s house when three shoes in the window of a store called Hai caught the corner of my eye. They were just too precious. I stepped in and realized that this store was, in fact, the British Sandy Liang. Satins, ginghams, and rosettes galore. I could not believe that I only found this on my very last day. After a long hard internal debate about which color was best, I went with the yellows. Puke colors are coming for us! Just you wait and see! After this purchase, I hardcore influenced because now both Sadie and Lola have a pair, and you should too! I may gatekeep some things, but to gatekeep these would be too cruel.
So, if you have gotten this far, thank you for caring about the treasures I brought home from my time in London. It was truly a semester of beautiful things, and I am happy I could share some with you.
コメント