London Calling

What are the images that are conjured in your mind when you hear the word ‘London’? The Queen and Buckingham Palace? Red phone booths and black taxi cabs? Grey skies and a sea of black umbrellas? Everyone has a certain impression, real or imagined, of London, which feeds how their story of the grand but gloomy city is told. People rant, rave, or a mix of the two, about the abominable weather, the glorious sites stepped in historical relevance, the dapper business suits juxtaposed with the wild style mix of the Shoreditch set. Me, well my story of London cannot be linear, because my memories of the city, and the subsequent recollection of images, are completely haphazard. It’s all I can do to spurt out the synthesis of ideas that emerge when I say the city’s name.

London: it’s an image of food and drink, nay, endless servings of food and drink. The classic pub meal, albeit in a completely gentrified gastropub in Angel. Third wave cafes, filled with Australian and New Zealand baristas. The best donuts I have ever had, full to the brim with raspberry jam, gushing out like delicious, sweet lava over mounds of sugar coated dough. Convenience foods, which unlike the USA, are not full of high fructose corn syrup, fake flavors and additives, but foods prepared fresh, in individual portions, ready to be picked up and eaten on the go or cooked up in a flash. So many delicious sandwiches. Trendy restaurants: Italian, modern British or European, doing their bit to change the perception of British ‘stodge’ food, and doing a damn fine job of it. Wine, readily available – and expected – at each meal, prefaced with the post-work, pre-dinner imbibing of a tall glass of beer, or in my case cider, served hard, as it should be. Food markets with duck confit burgers, authentically Polish salted-beef bagels and home-made dumplings. Then there were the ginger beers, or ginger ales, I am still unsure of the difference, but they were delicious, as were the cold-brew teas.

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Images created by theeellyedit

London: it’s an image of beautiful scenery, and beautiful snapshots, that one would never expect to find somewhere known to be so grey and traditional. A canal, lined with luscious greenery, framed by modern glass buildings, challenging expectations of what London cityscapes are all about. Post-middled-aged men, hanging out the front of trendy boutiques, fitting in like they were born to sit under the lighted sign that reads ‘Brick Lane Coffee’. Typography all around, all kinds cursives and serifs, informing you, pointing you to directions that you never knew you needed to go. Rooftop bars, filled with well-salaried young professionals, overlooking the dome of a grand place of worship, lit up to create a perfect backdrop to beer, wine and cocktail consumption. The V&A museum, filled with the great designers of history, whilst also recognizing the importance of now, showcasing the creations of the likes of Lee McQueen (better known as Alexander) as worn by Kate Moss, and an exhibition acknowledging the necessity of the repressed having a voice, and expressing it, in any way they can.

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Images created by theellyedit

London: it’s an image of finding my own voice. Stirring up the courage to sign up to a short course in Fashion Writing, taking five days out of my London nine and dedicating it to growing the seed of who I am, what I want to do, and how far I can extend my capabilities. Meeting new people, exploring their own self-perceptions and ideals, pushing our limits in a city that’s not our own. Discovering new boutiques, museums and neighborhoods in an effort to create, to write compelling prose so as to propel us onto something exciting, something different, something new. It’s dipping a toe into a pool of hope, hoping to plunge your whole self in and emerge with new confidence and rigor, and learning that no matter what, you can almost always remove the word ‘that’ from any sentence.

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My fellow London College of Fashion students at the V&A. Image created by theellyedit

London: it’s an image of a kaleidoscope. A melange. A nine day mash-up of experiences, of memories, of images. It’s not the usual story, and by no means is it traditional, but that is London, and by golly it’s wonderful.

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Image created by theellyedit

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