|Dress & hat: old Anthro, Cardigan: Gap, Scarf: old Madewell, Boots: Clark's|
So there is this "thing" going on in London where there are secret clubs scattered around the city. You've got to know about them to find them, sometimes they might only have a tiny plaque by the front door, or you'll realise it's a club because there's a bouncer standing there. You normally need to book ahead, too, since these places are small and fill up pretty quickly. So when Victor and I decided to pop into one in Chinatown that he knew about - called Opium - we were very lucky to get a space at the bar.
Now, Opium basically looks like they opened a bar in someone's home - it spreads over two floors, and everything is decorated like a 1930's Chinese home. There's a little red shrine with candles when you come in the front door, and you go up the steep staircase past toilets market "pretty lady" and "handsome man" with only Chinese characters. (At one point, Victor spotted a very confused white guy standing outside the toilets, and told him, most condescendingly; "It's that one, obviously!" Heh.)
Now, earlier that day, I'd been teasing Victor about losing his wedding ring. Again. Yes, Victor's original one disappeared a couple of years ago, and he wound up buying a new one. And now Mark Two, as he called it, had also vanished. All we knew was, it happened on the day we moved house. So for a couple of months, every time he chided me for doing something stupid, I'd give him a look and say, "Well, at least I've never lost my wedding ring!" But that evening, when I went to the "pretty ladies" room, I took off my jewellery and placed them on the sink, as you do - only for my wedding ring to spin, and sort of bounce, and fall right into the sink. And did I mention the sink didn't have a filter? So like one of those carnival ring-toss things, it landed on the little screw in the middle, and damned if I could get it out.
|This is my "what has it got in its pocketses" pose. |
In honour of the upcoming Battle of the Five Armies movie, naturally,
Of course, it probably didn't help that I was freaking out at the time. So I start knocking on the door to the gents next door, where Victor was doing what men do in there, and yelled that he had to come in and help me get my wedding ring out of the sink. I didn't know what else to do! Luckily, with the help of a pencil I happened to have in my handbag, he managed to fish it out for me - Victor's hands are much smaller than mine, which is usually something I find embarrassing, but this time? This time his "elf hands" were what saved the day. And now I can't even tease him about losing his wedding ring anymore!