Poshdeluxe

various kitchen utensils by skybox




as you may know, henri and i decided to head over to london to ring in the new year with amber pants. when i saw her amberliciousness this summer, i swore i would return to celebrate the arrival of DOUBLE OH SEVEN, i.e. the dawn of a new age, when hopefully i become a super tough, classy hot spy who drinks martinis and is less easily bruised. subsequently, i needed to suddenly develop a british accent, and the only place you can properly do that is in london (otherwise you just sound like the monty python geeks in high school, otherwise known as The Drama Club, or, professionally speaking, the Thespian Society, and yes i was president).

henri had never been to europe before, so he was DEFINITELY in for a treat.. called JET LAG! YAY!

we arrived on the morning of the 28th and promptly failed to find petticoat towers, where we were staying for the night. we wandered the streets of east london while dragging our suitcases behind us (thank the sweet heavens for wheel technology) and growing increasingly desperate. the low point may have been when a bum threw a bottle at us. or it may have been when a lady gave us directions that led us completely AWAY from our final destination.

at any rate, we asked two cops (bobbys? is that right? am i making this up?) for help when we strayed into petticoat market, which looks like this:

in a moment of pure brilliance, they pointed to a building at the end of the street that, well, was the only tower-like structure within a few blocks.

PETTICOAT TOWERS! FINALLY! we heaved ourselves up the stairs as i imagined a mary poppins type scene with chimney sweeps and scampy old mutts.

instead, we entered communist russia.

oh yes, america, communism is THRIVING in london, with shiny blue paint to mask the drabness and despair.

we walked into the office, where we were greeted by john, a pleasant, tottering old man with a bright red nose. thankfully, he knew about the room that had been arranged by our friend david, who lives in the tower itself. he agreed to take us there, but then stopped to answer a phone call. and then felt the need to take us around to the opposite end so we could see the restaurant that serves a truly delicious and cheap lunch. and then was accosted by two elderly residents complaining about cat poo.

old people: “this really is a DISGRACE.”

john: “mmm, right right, yes.”

old people: “something must be DONE!”

john: “mmkay, right, yes.”

after untangling himself from the conversation…

john, under his breath: “it’s just cat poop. why can’t they clean it up themselves?”

henri & sarah: “heh…”

john: “well, anyway… sarah, lead the way!”

sarah: “uh, john, i don’t know where we’re going.”

john: “oh yes RIGHT RIGHT. ok then!”

thirty minutes later, we got to the room, which john warned us was “rather spare,” and “certainly spartan.”

i think “spare” might have been an exaggeration.

i couldn’t bring myself to take a picture of the bathroom.

home, sweet communist bloc, home.

after lunch (yes, we went to the place john recommended), we returned to our room and noticed that it was STILL FREEZING. also we noticed that the TOILET DID NOT FLUSH.

since john encouraged us to contact him about Any Problems Whatsoever, we headed down to the office to express our concern.

sarah: “uh, john, i’m not so sure that the heater is working.”

john: “hmm, right right, ok.”

sarah: “i mean, it’s freezing in there.”

john: “mmm. right.”

sarah: “also, uh, the toilet doesn’t appear to flush properly.”

john: “mmkay. right.”

[suddenly i felt like i was complaining about cat poo]

sarah: “so…”

john: “well, we never know about these things until someone tells us!”

sarah: “right, well, yeah, so…”

john: “well i’ll be here until 4:30 in case you need something!”

sarah: …

john: “did i mention the pub around the corner has a great breakfast? although i’ve heard in america the breakfast platters are HUGE!”

sarah: …

john did teach us some new vocabulary, though, mostly in the form of “down & out,” a more fanciful way to say “bum” or “homeless person.” example: “i think that down & out just threw a bottle at us.”

henri and i decided to walk down brick lane, which features tons of indian restaurants followed by a hipster sector, as identified by the appearance of some banksy graffiti:

even though our new year’s was destined for greatness, the sentiment of this poster still resonated with me:

[by the way, myspace is all over the place in london. we kept seeing a poster of an empty pint glass with a formation of foam in the vague shape of jesus' face and the tagline simply read, "www.myspace.com/whereisjesus" or something like that. would that ever happen in america? no. and that is really tragic]

we stumbled upon a park with a playground, which of course requires play. one thing that’s better about europe than america is that people don’t sue each other as much, so the idea of liability probably comes up only when discussing lead paint and royal scandals. that means the playground was SUPER AWESOME, cos most of the equipment could probably cause Serious Harm, if not the loss of a limb.

my favorite was this spinning tree net thing. the ease with which i, at dizzying speed, could fall off of this contraption was simply stunning.

after recess, we headed over to olivia’s apartment, where we’d be staying for the rest of our trip (good-bye, communism!), to get the key from her boyfriend, david.

here is the view a mere twenty five steps away from olivia’s door:

glorious, glittering, capitalist london!

however, our most common view during the entire trip went a little something like this:

anyway

back in east london, we met up with david rose in his non-communist flat on the v. top of the tower, where the view looks like this:

seriously. gorgeous.

he took us to brick lane for some TASTY TASTY indian food, followed by a visit to two bars. in the first pub, there were a TON of chandeliers. i discovered that in london, most pubs have chandeliers. but this one had an excess of them, and i liked that. i need an excess of chandeliers in my apartment for double oh seven, i’m certain. anyway, here’s one of the fixtures:

then david took us to what he deemed “a new york city bar,” which means that it was actually open LATER THAN 11:30. see, the crappy think about london in the winter is that EVERYTHING CLOSES BEFORE YR GRANDMOTHER GOES TO BED. i know, it’s appalling. henri and i bore this burden during the entire trip, and i have to say, it was quite a hardship, sort of like dealing with cholera on the oregon trail.

anyway, at the nyc bar, i decided to visit the piddly diddly department (seriously that is how they say “go pee” in britain. or at least, that’s what i learned in “angus, thongs and full frontal snogging” ANYWAY) and was slightly alarmed to find A BOY IN THE GIRL’S BATHROOM.

he was nice, though, especially when a girl came in, almost in tears, cos the cuff of her jeans was caught in her new, fancy boots (btw everyone in london wears tall boots right now. it is The Style). the Boy in the Bathroom carefully extracted her pant leg from the boot while preserving the zipper!

i think the beauty of the moment bonded all of us. here’s the group, moments after the miracle took place:

(the girl in the gray was the one with the boot issue)

after david told me that my british accent is terrible (LIES), we decided to call it a night and head back to the motherland.

where our room was still freezing.

i fell asleep picturing john saying, “mmm, right, right, ok.”