Saturday morning and we wake up, breathing heavily, enjoying being able to stay in bed until noon. When the hunger is too much to handle, we get dressed and walk up though Broadway Market, London Fields and all the way to Dalston and the relatively new brunch spot Reilly Rocket.
Inside it is well homely but all the tables are taken.
So the waiter seats us upstairs among bamboo wallpaper.
I order eggs and avocado on sourdough bread for £6.50.
This one <3
We drink our coffees and talk about things we want to do to the sound of Lykke Li and Alt-J.
A few hours later it’s time to get out and make something of this Saturday.
We pay and go through vintage shops and graphic design boutiques. I buy three things and forget the bag in another store. </3 Instead we buy mulled wine and head home to prepare for the night. And that I will show you in another post.
A wednesday night in late October and I meet up with Lovisa after work. As always she looks like a Russian royalty.
We head into the poshest parts of London where she has put us both on the list for the launch of the 3rd issue of the magazine SHOWROOMat RRL. We are half the age of everybody there and pretty much the only females there too, so Lovisa flirts with the ginger waiters and we drink heaps of expensive gin.
Not having a heavy beard or any money we hang out in a corner eating mini burgers(!), talking about boy problems and turning flustered as the glasses empties.
At nine the party is over and we have proudly consumed more posh drinks then anybody could foresee. Nic, one of the photographers of the magazine and a friend of Lovisa, forces us to join all the magazine people to a regal pub next door.
There will be more free drinks you know, he says and who is to argue with that?
We hang out, drinking more hard liquor, feeling like young runaways in a different world from ours, and it is freeing. A girl talking about her period instantly become our friend, and as the night grows darker all the velvet interior and long beards spins around. We trip and fall and laugh and smoke.
Sometimes, feeling part of all glamour and extravaganza is a perfect escapism.
After having slept the fever away for a while, we got dressed and took the bus up to Haggerston and Sebastian’s crib. I just knew it was a bad idea, getting drunk with a fever, but sometimes it’s not that easy to resist a bit of young stupidity. After all, we had tickets to go see Brodinski and Gesaffelstein!
His girlfriend Kate was there, telling me stories of her being a runaway bride and getting tattooed in a Buddhist temple at the top of a mountain.
As we downed one glass of whiskey ginger ale after the other, the music got louder and messier. Dirty electronic tunes and finishing off with too many Diplo songs and suddenly it was time to leave.
A bus up to Highbury & Islington talking about my hellish job as a nanny and then Victoria line all the way down to most southern parts of London.
Van Der Kock in the queue.
Finally inside we took turn buying too many rounds and trying to squeeze in to the front and the other parts of the venue. Like a 90’s rave with what felt like thousands of youths high on various drugs dancing to electronic beats.
Hours of insanity and sweaty dancing followed.
Brodinski went on and we struggled to hear anything as it was so packed that I literally couldn’t breathe. Escaping outside was the only solution and by this point the only thing I could think of was the discotheque fire in Gothenburg -98. Some of us being to drunk we gave the club the finger and decided to leave.