When looking for a gift for a friend on Regent Street yesterday, I stumbled upon a little surprise. Well, two, actually. One was the madness going on around Oxford Circus (think twice before going on a Saturday in the middle of London’s Fashion Week). The other was a pop-up exhibit forming part of the London Design Festival.
Sundays have always been “market days” in my mind. I don’t know why exactly, but the two words just kind of go together… Sunday market. While I didn’t go to any markets on this St. Patties Sunday, I’m reminiscing a trip I made two weeks ago to other now-distant markets... Those on London’s Southbank.
The week has just begun and yet I find myself craving for Sunday. Usually Sundays are sad and rough because you realize that Monday is fast approaching, which brings with it having to actually wash your hair and set an alarm. But since I’ve moved to Paris, I have learned to relish and love Sundays. It means sleeping in late, visiting a museum or exhibit, and most importantly… brunch!
While August might connote too many cocktails and sand in your crotch, sometimes smoothies and discovering a city are ideal substitutes. Bright doorways, blue skies, a quiet alley, a buzzing cafe. Madrid is a different city in August. Restaurants are boarded up, neighbors no longer peer out their balconies, and now only the tourist areas are off-limits on weekends. Parking spots are a-plenty, and my original concept of personal space is restored. Madrid looks naked in August. And it’s probably the best month to appreciate it.
Today is all about London. What else is there? After months of preparing, moaning, training, whining, speculating; the Olympics are finally here. While I wish I knew enough about sports to tell you who will win the most golds, this is not one of those posts. Instead, I’ll tell you about some favorite spots I’ve been to, street style to envy, and why London is so much more than the 2012 games host.
Just a few of my favorite things about the capital of tea, mod style, and everything royal:
1. Going thrift-hunting in Spitalfields market: wool felt hats, 1£ CD’s, and peter-pan collared dresses.
My friend Lexy told me about this a while back and, after a month in Ethiopia, this whole idea makes a lot of girl-power and ass-kicking sense: It’s called The Girl Effect. It starts with investing in a 12 year old girl; letting her know that she has a chance to escape poverty by her own doing. It starts with keeping her in school, where she might be safer from being married off, getting pregnant or having to sell her body at the age of 15; giving her the tools to learn and think for herself… To be the one who starts the family business.