Monday, 24 November 2014

Opium


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! 

Friday, 14 November 2014

Lady Green Cardigan

Cardigan: Cath Kidston, T-shirt: J.Crew, Skirt: Anthro, Boots: Clark's. 
Uh, hi there! I didn't actually disappear - but my camera did! I literally have no idea where it's hiding, but it's somewhere in this apartment, and as my mother likes to say, "If you haven't smashed it or set it on fire, it'll show up one day!" She's been staying with us again, and we've been working on the apartment some more. This balcony I'm standing on, for instance? It's now blue - a lovely pale sky blue that will serve as a backdrop for when my friends and I find the time to make stencils and spraypaint some trees and mountains on the walls! 


If you have been following the blog Happily Ever Anthro, you may notice that this outfit is stolen directly from under sweet Sayaka's feet. That post was what made me realise that I needed a dark green cardigan in my life, but it took me months to find one! And it figures that when I finally did, it was at the Cath Kidston store. Anyway, I'd love to link to the post in question, but I can't - because Blogger informs me her blog as been removed. Which makes me sad... I just hope everything's all right with her, whether Sayaka got hacked, or she decided to take her blog down herself. 


 While I write this, Victor and I are watching Banzai - a truly insane TV program where you're supposed to place bets on what will happen. Featuring such glorious lunatics as Shake Hands Man, who interviews celebrities and shakes their hand until they get scared and pull their hand away, and Lady One Question. She asks a celebrity one question, and then just holds the mike there and stares at them while they talk. And talk. And sweat. And then they time her, to see how long she can keep this poor person hanging. It's childish, but kind of amazing!