So last night I missed out on both F.M.S. party and the IFB Dress Up Soirée (gutted! see 3 posts below) because of ... safety. How very São Paulo. How very NYC in the early 90s. I live in a relatively safe neighbourhood, full of jewish families and their countless children, but the other night coming home I was followed by a street gang - which NEVER happened before, and I lived in much rougher areas - and was lucky to be rescued by my neighbour, who drives like a F1 racer. So having no one to come down to the parties with me, no driver's license, and no spare money to pay for cab rides, the Boyfriend forbade me to jump on the 149.
What the deuce is going on with London? Should I start assembling a Blade Runner wardrobe and practising somersaults a la Daryl Hannah?
Still, I've managed to stop by The Hospice to see Maria's Grachvogel AW09 show. The order of the day was "feminine and chic but comfortable pieces", which to me translated as "ladies-who-lunch-having-a-70s-themed-tea-party". Or something like it. Lots of ruffles and silk and peonies, and although the collection was a little too conservative for my taste, I could find some use for this fab ruffled jumpsuit (it IS a jumpsuit).
Then, on my way home I stumbled upon Drury Lane's Oxfam - must be faith - and being the thrifting sucker I am (that doesn't sound right, but you get the picture), I went IN. And came OUT £17 poorer, but with these FAB Westwood-esque platform T-bar Mary-Janes, a black wool poncho-meets-cardigan-meets-sofa-throw and a fabulously tacky pink harem pants embroidered with Hawaiian dancers. It kind of compensated for missing out on the parties - I just need to find another ones to wear all this.
There's lots of other things going on still, and I feel a little guilty for not dragging my ever-expanding bottom to such places, but energy here is running low. I'll come back tomorrow, folks.